


Edict

by wickedrum



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: F/M, Sickfic, Stomach Kink, Stuffing, Suicidal Thoughts, Whump, suicidal behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:32:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 37,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9791942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedrum/pseuds/wickedrum
Summary: Due to Mirkwood's dwindling population, Thranduil pens a Decree to compel elves to reproduce more. And leading should be by example.





	1. Enactment

**Author's Note:**

> 1.When I am writing, it's mainly for my own pleasure. It's what I'd like to see happen so when I reread in a few months, oftentimes years later, thus I find a story that is completely to my taste.  
> 2\. Yet another post-TBOTFA story that leads to Thranduil/Tauriel. I can't stay away from them, can I!
> 
> Genre: G, romance, sickfic.  
> Rating/Warning: some adult themes, nothing major.  
> Disclaimers: I don't own anything, barely my knickers.

Chapter 1: Enactment

Sadness. An impenetrable murk Tauriel didn't feel like even attempting to swim out of. Tears that wouldn't stop falling. Heaviness in her chest while the rest of her felt nothing but hollow and floating in void. Purpose and spiritedness lost. Nothing seemed to matter bar that ironlike grip of the sorrow that anchored her to the ground, crushed her body and made her unable to move. There wasn't much that she noticed. She knew that dwarves came and took their prince's body and that frozen onto her knees, she let them. It did not make her move and changed nothing, only how fast her tears were falling. For now that Kili was taken away from her, the void around her wasn't only swallowing her up, but hurt as well, every fibre of her searing with hopelessness and a vibrating yearning for what could not be.

She didn't notice anyone else approaching, not till there was a small hand on her shoulder, and Bofur quietly and sympathetically explained to her that Dain Ironfoot would not allow her to participate at the funerals. And while a flare of anger reared in her as she deserved better treatment for standing by the dwarves, she took the news quietly and lethargically as well, not noticing the dwarf's retreat the same way as she didn't notice him arriving. It changed nothing as the additional pain that it caused was lost in the immense sea of sorrow that already engulfed her. Burying her face into her hands, she rocked herself back and forth till fatigue took over and somewhere along the line she lay down on the ground where Kili has once been. 

The sun was high up in the sky the next day before she even thought about moving. Eventually, survival instincts must've taken over because she vaguely became aware of fragmented thoughts going through her mind pertaining snow, coldness and a call for comfort. An elf would not freeze to death in current conditions, it would have had to have been a lot colder, but that didn't stop her from wishing for solace, any kind of relief that alleviated the misery she felt. However, once she found her legs and her bearings, the trek down the mountain side only made her aware of a bigger calamity than her own around her, an overpowering sense of grief and loss that was separate from hers and yet it also felt congruent. And the lower she descended, the more one it called to her fea. Her grief drew her to a similar sorrow and before she knew what she was doing, she joined her fellow elven peers silently and reverently collecting their dead from the battlefield. 

Hurt having reached the point it could heighten into nothing else but numbness, she fell in step with the soldiers while carrying stretchers, the monotone quality of the movement made together having a lulling, familiar effect that felt reassuring. Now she wasn't alone with her grief. Nobody questioned her right to honour the fallen and she had already made three trips to the tenting encampment of the elven forces before the numbness gave away to realisation and fear. 

At first, she was too enclosed in herself to take in much of her surroundings all the while as soldiers were turned over and helmets removed around her but once she noticed it was happening she could not take her eyes off of the process, fearing every time that she would recognise someone dead. It had been a miracle that hasn't happened so far as she had trained many of the archers in the army or have trained with them, not to mention the other members of the king's personal guard. 

What had become clear for her was that casualties were very heavy, for all five armies, and that meant for Mirkwood among them as well. Out of the nigh fifteen-hundred elves, perhaps as much as a few hundred have perished and that was a tremendous loss indeed, especially as some of those fallen would have wives and husbands at home who would want to promptly follow them to the Halls of Mandos in Valinor as not many elves chose to stay after their life partners departed. So in reality it was an even more sizeable ruin on the already smaller than ever population of the kingdom than it first seemed. Then as she passed the rows of the fallen, she started to recognise a few, a silversmith, a young guard just old enough to be serve, a healer she often exchanged herbalist books with, and more. And thus it became clear to her that her place was by their sides, seeing them off when they would be set to sail to the shores of Valinor. And while nobody has objected to her presence so far, to do that she would possibly need clearance from Thranduil. So after her next cargo, a well built soldier with a partially detached head, Tauriel set her eyes on the golden-yellow royal tent. She knew both guards standing outside. It was a relief to see them alive, and yet she was stopped as she approached by the two standing in her way. 

“You are to be apprehended if you don't leave the camp willingly,” the guard outranking the other held somewhat apologetically. 

“About that...” Tauriel tried, “when was that order given? Because I have spoken to the king up on Ravenhill and he had been gracious to me.” Which wasn't untrue, though Thranduil had shown no indication that he had changed his mind about her punishment as well, not just the acknowledgement of her feelings. 

The guards exchanged confused looks. “There haven't been updates,” the same guard as the one speaking previously admitted. 

“Understandable given there must have been other priorities,” Tauriel reasoned. 

“There have been no updates of any kind from His Majesty,” the other elf, Injros chipped in. 

“There must be a way to check. Who is in there with him?” The elleth questioned. 

“It is only Galion, and didn't he say the king was resting?” Injros checked with his counterpart.

“Look, Oenel, Injros, it's me. I outrank both of you, we have shared countless shifts on duty, I led you on patrols, I have taught you how to make arrowheads Injros. Would it be possible to get a confirmation at least before you apprehend me? I'm not asking to see the king, Galion could do it.”

Oenel pursed his lips contemplatively, then nodded and disappeared behind the curtains, only to appear not even half a minute later with a dejected butler. “Have you really threatened the king as they say you did?” Galion was shooting daggers at her. While he was no guard, Tauriel had always been sure that the manservant would protect his king just as fiercely. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I came to set things right,” Tauriel held, “for I have acted without thinking of consequences fully,” she admitted. 

“Apologise?” Galion demanded.

“Yes, apologise,” the redhead reiterated to appear humble.

“Well, it would probably be beneficial for him to at least hear one bit of good news today,” the butler agreed reluctantly. 

“Leave all your weapons outside,” Oenel nodded his opinion on the subject, “arrows too,” he insisted, even though Tauriel had no bow to release them with.

The woodelf deposited them along with her daggers without any further question, thankful she was given permission to enter. A little spring dripping back into her steps, she threw herself at Thranduil's feet as he sat on his wooden chair. Tauriel didn't look up, didn't speak, awaiting the king's judgement, not daring to speak out of turn once again. Her head bowed, she could only see the ruler's ornately armoured boots, somewhat surprised he didn't change out of them yet and worried that no words came from him, weary of his reaction. 

It was Galion who cleared his throat to attract attention, “my Lord. Tauriel came to ask for your forgiveness.”

Tauriel could see the king's robe slightly shifting and awaited to be struck down by his anger. Instead, Galion scurried to the side and poured a glass of wine for his master at Thranduil's half-hearted wave. He poked Tauriel's shoulder on his way back to stand in front of him, “speak. Now,” he urged, “I think he's listening,” he whispered.

The elleth bowed even further, “Your Highness,” she started with all the respect she was able to give, “I have trained my weapon on another elf and not just any other, but my King. Our losses, my Lord, it hurts just as much,” she referred to their earlier conversation the previous day. “Let me make up for as much of my mistakes as I can, let me serve my fellow elves, holding on to our strengths as we lay our departed on their journey to Valinor. Let me be an elf who feels for her fellow people. I am here and I am ready to pay the price...” Feeling utterly defeated, she added, “I have no other family, but the ones who took me in, you, my Liege...I can prove my worth, as I did before,” she spoke further as there still was no response. 

“The king has already nodded his agreement when you talked about the funerals. I assume that means you can stay for that,” Galion let her know. Tauriel looked up at this, surprised. In truth, she did not expect to get away without due punishment she deserved. But mostly she did not expect what she found, Thranduil holding a goblet with a clearly shaking hand and with a haunted expression that echoed as much pain as it did despair. He looked pale, brittle, vulnerable and much much older than his five thousands years. During their moment, up on Ravenhill, his arrogance shed, Tauriel had recognised the fellow soul who's eyes mirrored a similar sorrow to hers. In this moment however, Thranduil seemed lost somewhere in the inside of the darkest pits. He saw her not, she was quite sure, his gaze was empty and distant. 

Galion had to practically drag her away from the sight. “The king's unwell,” worry crept into Tauriel's chest. “Has he been injured?” She asked in hushed tones only a few steps away, and Thranduil paid no attention. 

“I don't believe so,” the butler held.

“Something is very wrong with the king,” the redhead fretted further.

“Something is, Tauriel. The three hundred elves that have been reported dead so far and the number is still likely to increase as we comb the valley.”

Tauriel shook her head. Of course, she knew that but, “he's meant to be strong. He's always strong and in control.”

“I'm sure he will be when he needs to be. Now, no word of this to anyone, Tauriel,” Galion showed his protective side again. 

“Of course,” she promised. The question was entirely unnecessary, even if she wasn't the king's guard anymore. Tauriel stepped out of the tent half relieved that she was allowed to continue as she had wanted, the other half burdened even more than she previously had been for now she had to carry those haunted eyes with her. There was a feel to them as if Thranduil would have already departed himself, a jarring, eerie, foreboding potentiality that would change the very world as she knew it. 

Tbc


	2. Abidance

Chapter 2: Abidance

Tauriel would have been mitigated by just being allowed to attend the ceremony on the banks of the Great River of Wilderland where elven funerals took place, allowing the bodies of the fallen and any family members who wished to ride with them to be put on rafts with sails on a journey down to and across the Belegaer Sea to Valinor. Instead, she was handed a bow and arrows, along with an armband to signify her being one of the very few guards who would be on duty to oversee the safety of the mourners. Of course if she did not commit treason, this course of action would have been completely understandable given her rank. Tauriel was after all one of the king's closest bodyguards and confidantes, one that stood out in bravery and merit, and grateful to the family that took her in after being orphaned in the woods. Additionally, she did not have close friends or kin among the fallen and would have been therefore a perfect choice for the task. 

The redhead was so startled at first that she didn't object immediately. She had started after the ensign to give the objects handed to her back, having assumed that maybe not everyone knew of her missteps. But the flag carrier had already mounted her horse and took off by that time, leaving Tauriel no other option than to seek out some other commissioned officer on duty and disarm herself voluntarily in their presence. 

It took one look and a nod from Feren however, and her plans changed. The First Lieutenant of the King had been present at her greatest transgressions and yet all he did was rest his eyes upon her for a moment, taking stock of the situation, then a moment passed between them, a deep-seated sentiment the elves all shared at this time, a sense of belonging and loss that transcended the worldly and sculpted them into one. And while the military leader and the captain often didn't see eye to eye, there was no doubt in Tauriel's mind that she was not only permitted to assume guard duties for the day, but that the army commander expected it from her. 

So it was thusly that Tauriel ended up standing in her ceremonial uniform, fully armed a bare three feet from the king at his place on the edge of the highest boulder overlooking the ravine for the ceremony, ready to protect him with her life as if nothing had happened. The consequences of her actions prior and during the battle were still to come, but with this occasion, her place had to be where it always was, strengthening the natural order of how it would feel right, a small comfort in the face of a disaster of Mirkwood proportions. Tauriel had known casualties were high, but seeing the rafts pass below them, almost every one of them laden with an extra passenger accompanying their significant others to the Undying Lands, that was a whole other matter. It didn't only bring the reality home, but it also torn part of each of their souls out to the extent that she herself felt the river's calling and had experienced a moment of surprise that their whole race did not jump into the water to follow the rest themselves. 

It was nothing like any funeral she had taken part in, there was no music and no one spoke of the departed. All the remaining elves simply stood solemnly and respectfully on the banks of the river watching the rafts go by in an eerie silence that strangely reverberated in their chests with a beat that sucked life out of them and carried it away above the mountains, somewhere where they probably belonged as opposed to waiting their middle-earthly lives out in the realm. Tauriel nonetheless was given and had a job to do and shame on her if she didn't stand up to her peers' expectations. Consciously bringing herself back to the present, she listened out for the forest and her eyes searched the landscape, for movement, for unusual shapes and colours, for danger. She was there to protect Thranduil and that's what she was going to do. 

Next, she looked at her king. If she was Captain of the Guard, if for the day only, her second task beyond security was to aid His Highness in whatever he needed done. For this, she would always look for clues, try to anticipate his commands, something she had usually been very good at, thus her advancing to the top of her profession. 

And there was something about his stance that bothered Tauriel. For at times of hardship, when elves' safety or subsequent harvests were in peril, Thranduil had always insisted on allowing himself and his leaders no wavering. The harder times were, the stronger they needed to look. This time however, she did not need to be one of the king's most inner guards to realize he was unwell. The losses affected everyone, but perhaps they have stricken him the most. He sometimes took a bigger breath to steel himself, moved his feet a little to find his balance and at one time, his mirage keeping his dragon induced injuries hidden flickered. Further proof to Thranduil's indisposition if she would've needed one, was how close Galion was standing and how he kept his attention on his master. The servant had no place amongst the high ranking officers and yet he was just behind the king, either ordered to do so, or defying custom and convention on his own initiative. 

It didn't bode well and once Tauriel had realised this, her duteous and responsible guard mind kicked in and she found herself strangely detached from the rest of what otherwise appeared to feel like a hive mind of elves in mourning, degaged from reality. She took it as a blessing, as it was a the first time since the battle she felt some sort of individual purpose, it was good to find a some sort of resemblance to herself. She stayed argus-eyed and thus was the first to leap to Galion's help when the elf of a smaller stature reached out for his statuesque master as Thranduil pitched forward and towards the abyss of the river under the boulder. 

“Aran nin!” Feren was at their side forthwith as well and the three of them managed to pull the limp king into safety and lie him down on his back, away from the ravine. A few of the guards stepped forward, ready to get involved, the crowd however did not show excessive reaction bar for the general atmosphere's dip for an even more aching desperation that she felt in her very being and once more, Tauriel was surprised that nobody else had thrown themselves into the waves.

His complexion exceedingly pallid, Thranduil had his eyes closed, but moved his head slowly from side to side as if trying to surface, groaning weakly. Tauriel gave room to the appearing healer. Gobel was one of the oldest elves in existence, with a knowledge of everything, though he had long given up teaching and was mainly only consulted on grave cases of injuries or poisoning for he preferred a solitary existence, in many ways like the king himself. 

Gobel knelt beside Thranduil and put a hand on his finely sculpted jawline, trying to attract his attention, “amin hin.” Tauriel was startled to hear the informal address, but not as stupefied as when she heard the rest. 

Because instead of attempting any kind of bettering of the king's condition, Gobel only solemnly asked, “do you wish to join those sailing to Valinor, Hir Vuin?”

Tauriel found herself shaking her head. No. What they have suffered so far was unprecedented in her lifetime, losing Thranduil she felt would be insurmountable, a shift in the world worse than any earthquake. Thranduil dying, Thranduil giving up was unimaginable. Not that proud, bullnecked, powerful elf who surpassed anyone in stamina on the training ground and battle alike, not the roguish party king with wine tinted playfulness in his eyes. Her king, her pillar of certainty, her roots. Judging from Galion's face, he must've been of the same opinion in regards to Gobel's suggestion. 

“Thranduil, ion-nin, a raft can be ready. You don't even have to say anything, just give a sign, nod,” the healer encouraged further, “and you can see your wife and parents without much delay.”

“Feren, this isn't right!” Galion appealed out of turn, “we can't just simply let the king go!”

“He is in a lot of pain, he had been for a long time, Galion,” the old elf explained sympathetically, “we all feel the need to depart, some more than others, you can't deny that.”

Feren knelt down as well, keen to help his King in any way that was necessary, even if that was letting go. It was doubtful any of them could take any more pain, including watching their sovereign suffer. “I need him to be clear on his wishes, Gobel,” he established. “Can you rouse him for that?”

“I did not bring any medicines,” the healer admitted. Of course those weren't likely to be needed for the occasion. 

Feren leant closer to the ailing elf, “my Lord, I am awaiting your orders,” he tried again, “do you wish to go to Valar?”

Thranduil groaned and turned his head a little towards the voice. Perhaps some of what was spoken was registering with him. “Legolas...” He moaned. 

“He will not leave the Kingdom without direction, he wants Legolas here first,” Galion grabbed at the opportunity to steer the healer away from his alterative ideas. 

Feren nodded in agreement. It was a principle he knew his superior by. “Oenel, Argalad, organise a search party to find the prince,” he barked orders at the officers on duty, “Mudor, Tauriel, you help Galion take His Majesty back his Halls.”

tbc


	3. Proviso

Chapter 3: Proviso

“Tauriel,” Galion pulled the elleth aside conspirationally once they have arranged Thranduil as comfortably as they could on his bed, “I need to speak to you about the king's safety.”

“The king's safety?” Tauriel echoed somewhat surprised. “Galion, really, I'm not the person you want to speak to.”

“Haven't you been given charge today.”

“Well, yes, but I am still to answer for my crimes.”

The handsome butler shook his head, “no matter, you are yet the one I want to talk to. I do not know who to trust, you will see why. You and I, we have served side by side in understanding and complimenting each other, there aren't many others who read Thranduil without words like you and I. You've had your disagreements, but it is you who I would trust most with my master's life. Gobel I don't trust. He is to come up shortly, and I was thinking if there was any way we could stop him. I want him nowhere near Thranduil.”

“Is there something you base your concerns on?”

“Yes and no. He was so quick in his assumptions. He claimed Thranduil wanted to join the departed and was ready to see him off right there and then! I cannot let that happen.”

Tauriel regarded the unconscious king from afar. Despite his stature, he had been surprisingly light to help carry in, his skin taking on an ethereal aspect as if he would be ready to lie suspended in sleep for centuries. His superior, otherwordly countenance accentuated and while he lay incapacitated resting, and yet he did not seem at peace, trembling breaths and curling fingers accounted for proof. “I was surprised he collapsed,” she admitted. “It was he who tried to console me when my love died..”

“He did?” Galion acknowledged appreciatively. He knew his king better than anyone and knew he would show emotion and encouragement when needed, especially in private. 

“Galion, I think it is possible that Thranduil wants to join his wife and warriors in Valinor. We have maybe expected too much from him, we always did, the whole land. It is bound to get to him some day. The way we connected, what he had said to me after the battle, it just gives me that feel. You have explained it to me yourself, starting with the over three hundred supposed to be immortal elves that perished on the battlefield and today we said farewell on their journey to no less than five hundred. He had to watch husbands and wives choose to depart with their loved ones and not go himself. I have almost made that choice myself less than a week ago, up there on Ravenhill..”

“I don't believe it, Tauriel. He maybe needs a little aid this time and it will be a struggle to get him to accept any help, but I don't think it's his time yet. It's not.”

The redhead was still staring at her king, rather shaken to see him so frail. She was also feeling conscience-smitten for discussing his mental state right in front of him, but he didn't seem to be aware. “I don't want to believe it either,” she admitted. “I can't imagine how it would be, without him..”

“Gobel. We can't let him attend to Thranduil. We can't let him near. You need to help me.”

“Galion, I can't. You know that I can't. Even if I was a fully reinstated captain of the guard, how could I stop one of the most respected members of the council, the king's chosen personal physician from attending him.”

“Just like that, holding your sword in his way. He might be a personal physician, but you're a personal guard. You have the authority to stop anyone from getting close to Thranduil.”

“Yes, theoretically, maybe. But with Gobel, I would need a good reason and a rationale to present to the assembly.”

“We can deal with that later. All I want right now is that elf nowhere near him,” Galion pleaded. 

“You feel that strongly about it,” Tauriel started to take the butler seriously. “What else do you have against him, besides being ready to let the king go.”

“He never wanted me around lately when he attended Thranduil and he has not gotten better after taking Gobel's healing herbs, he had gotten worse.”

“Lately? How often had Gobel been called to attend and how long has this been going on?”

Galion gave a dismissive gesture, “it is true that the old one had been visiting regularly on Thranduil's request for the last few years, at least once every season if I recall correctly. And at first, I was to serve wine and food, and all they did was talk, with the occasional wellbeing related suggestion from Gobel. Then last year the healer started to send me on strange errands while he was around. The last two days since we came back from Dale however, I was not allowed to be present at all while he examined Thranduil. I don't like it. What is the mystery?”

Tauriel sighed heavily, suspicion forming in her head too, “perhaps he wanted to be discreet. The distant our Lord has been lately, short tempered and laconic, even more than usual. It is possible that they were trying to keep it a secret that the king is maybe fading..” She theorised. 

“A secret! Did you see how secretive he was today at the funerals! No Tauriel, that's not it. I refuse to accept it. We need to figure out what's really going on. You have been trained in the art of healing have you not? Could you examine him?” He looked towards his master. 

“I don't think that it would be appropriate,” Tauriel took a step back in alarm, “at any other time, I could maybe defy convention and do what's required instead, but not after our confrontation at Dale. It's not my place anymore.”

“But don't you see Tauriel, you are the only one who can! You are the only one who would break with tradition, throw every caution to the wind and step up to do what's right! If we don't do this, Gobel will convince everyone to send Thranduil sailing! If he's so keen on it, it's Gobel who should be sailing! I'm not asking for much, just examine His Majesty, it will be in his interest.”

The redhead could not disregard how agitated the butler was, it was neither his, or elven style in general. It had to have been some sort of foundation to his worries. So after some consideration, Tauriel put a comforting hand on the other's shoulder and stepped past him, back into the room. It was not as if she could exacerbate her own situation much more, so further blurring the lines of what was socially acceptable would not overly matter. She could hear Galion's relieved sigh as she gave in and that propelled her further into the boldness of touching the king without being requested to do so. It was Thranduil's hand she went for, it being possibly less intimate than if she would have touched his chest or head. Trying to handle him without stirring him too much, she gently rubbed his long fingers between hers, slid past the knuckles and felt his palm with her thumb. For a skilled healer, the fluctuations of energies in the different parts of the hand should give an indication of the functioning of body, with designated areas that corresponded with each organ. 

The discrepancy between what she believed and what she found was immediate. While there was an existing tension pulsating in the pads of his fingers and thumb indicative of mental and emotional turmoil, the balance of energy in the parts of the palm representing the stomach and intestines was entirely off, to an extent that Tauriel could not attribute it to nervous strain. She pulled back, more perplexed than before. “I don't understand.”

“How is he?” Galion seemed very worried.

“The malady is more physical rather than of the spirit.”

“I told you!” The brown haired elf rejoiced.

“But it doesn't make any sense. What stomach ailment can an elf have?”

“His appetite had been terrible lately, bar for the overindulging in wine. I wouldn't be surprised if he had found some limits to the elven constitution's resilience. Though I don't think he had even taken any wine since coming back to Mirkwood.” Galion tried to explain the phenomenon, though they both knew anything he had mentioned wasn't enough to get an elf in the state Thranduil was in. Then as if suddenly hit by an idea, he jumped to the nightstand and rummaged in all the drawers, “the vials, some are missing, he must have been taking those then during the last couple of days.”

“What vials?”

“The medicine Gobel used to give him. I was never told what they were for but the king would occasionally ask for them.”

Tauriel stepped up and took the little bottles to smell them. As a child of the woods, who spent a lot of time in the forest still, she did not have much trouble identifying some of the substances. There was lavaralda, fitting the circumstances as extracts made from the tree's flowers were meant to bring the sufferer a desire of rest and content. The alder leaves would have been against pain, the belladonna and malva perhaps to calm his stomach if that was really the problem. Even gallows-weed made sense, but there were some other scents in the mix she could not reliably recognise. Because what would ilex and klytun be doing in there? She had to be sure. “I'm going to take some of these with me, consult Elvellon regarding what the composition could be,” she referred to one of her teachers. All of a sudden it felt like an urgent matter. Elves did not harm other elves so Gobel wouldn't either, yet Galion's nagging suspicion was infectious. “I will be back as soon as possible. Until then, do not let Thranduil take anything else!” She hurried out, her red hair billowing behind her as if some fire would have sparked into life.

Tbc


	4. Conviction

Chapter 4: Conviction

There were half a dozen guards behind Tauriel when she returned with Feren within the hour. “Step away from His Majesty!” The King's Lieutenant ordered the now present healer, but did not leave it up to the old elf to comply and motioned two of his subordinates to immediately restrain and remove Gobel, even though the mellow fellow did not raise any objections. “You are charged with poisoning His Majesty,” the lieutenant declared solemnly. 

Galion, who had been looking for some comfortable bedclothes for Thranduil, turned around at that and charged in the older elf's direction, “I knew it! I told you, I knew it,” he wheezed, having to restrain himself not to grab the so called healer by the collar, “you promised Oropher you would take care of his son,” he accused in defence of his dear master, “that you would not abandon him!”

“And I kept my promise. I am still here, I haven't left to Valinor like everyone from my generation and all my family,” Gobel provided calmly and nonchalantly, acting as if none of his integrity was compromised. 

“Oh is that it then,” Galion countered, “you want to leave, and you're keeping your promise by sending His Majesty ahead first!” The servant shared his suspicions. 

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” Feren put Galion in his place, “Gobel will respond to the council in the matter. Until then, take him to the dungeons,” he nodded at the guards.

“But we need to know what it was he used and how bad is it! Will the king recover?” The butler didn't let the matter lie. 

“He will be alright,” Tauriel appeased him, “we believe that the quantities consumed do not mount up to a fatal amount. The King will however require proper care mainly comprising of pain management till the intestines heal, as well as rest and time.”

“Are you certain?” The faithful servant stressed.

“Yes. I consulted not just with Elvellon, but Beleg as well,” she assured, the latter being a herbalist of the military, specialised in combining weapons with poisons. Elvellon will be here momentarily to attend to the king in the capacity of his new healer.”

“No.” Thranduil's deep, melodic voice could be distinctly heard from the bed. 

“You're awake!” Galion flitted to his side, “My Lord, how are you feeling?”

Thranduil's eyes took stock of the elves in the room, setting his gaze probingly on his personal manservant, Tauriel and then Feren in turn, and also giving the rest of the space a sweep, reassuring himself that the rest of the guards have left. “Close the door. I need to talk,” he let them know rather curtly, with understandable impatience given the circumstances. 

“You have heard what we have found out, My Lord,” Feren wanted to establish the facts to be sure they were all on the same page. 

“Has Elvellon and Beleg been told of who's potions they were investigating?” The ruler demanded.

“No, My Lord,” Tauriel countered in full awareness of procedures. 

“The council will not decide over the matter, I will,” Thranduil established, albeit without his usual, sharp resolve, which of course would have been hard to achieve without intensity and sense of purpose in his tone. 

“Naturally, my Lord,” the lieutenant backtracked, “it would have been in your absence of course.”

“You have forgotten your station and meddled into affairs that should not concern you,” the king directed his words directly at Tauriel, confusing everyone with his sudden desire and strength to utter full sentences while he had barely said a word or showed much interest in the outside world since Dale. 

The daughter of the forest took to kneeling down immediately. Maybe she could properly apologise this time since when she tried before, the king didn't seem to be aware of it much. “I fully regret my threats, my Lord and I understand how...”

Thranduil only lifted feeble fingers to disregard the apology, but it was enough to silence her, “not that. Now I will be forced to reveal...” He sighed and took several moments before he spoke again, “Gobel cannot be punished for I knew of the poisons in the vials. He had only acted on my explicit orders...” He trailed off, his gaze wandering to his richly embellished covers. Their reaction he did not want to see because for sure there was little else a king could disappoint his people with more than wanting to abandon them. For once, he was thankful he was too fatigued and numb for the guilt and shame to affect him much. 

Tauriel's eyes snapped up to stare at his form. She couldn't believe her ears and searched his countenance for the truth. Did he just admit to wanting to die and to an attempt to do so as well? Her breath was caught in her throat as her racing brain flooded with realisation and overwhelming sympathy for she knew that her misery was nothing compared to the sorrow he would have been experiencing. Galion swallowed and with some difficulty, repressed the urge to grab for his master's hand and attempt to take some of his pain. Neither of them dared to comment. Even Feren seemed to have lost his composure for a moment for it had taken him some time to find the words, “I will see to my orders being immediately reversed,” he bowed his way out.

“No.” Thranduil stopped him again with the rushed and somewhat anxious word. “The arrangement was so the people don't find out I set out to speed up my fading.” He took another break before continuing. It would have been difficult for him to admit these things, and it seemed to Tauriel that he was also fighting a physical weakness he had to overcome, he looked so very tired and lost. As if he wasn't even present. “You will announce my judgement that Gobel should be banished from the realm, for appearances, but make sure he knows and only him, that the order secretly means I have released him from his promise to stand by me and he is to go to Valinor to join his family.” He tried to force an emotionless tone, for thinking of the place would have made him fall apart inside. 

“Yes, my Lord,” Feren did not question any of his orders, but simply nodded his unequivocal allegiance. It was only the pointed look he gave Tauriel on his way out that spoke of his shared worry over the king and a promise to delve with her into the matter at a later time. 

Thranduil breathed a sigh in relief for having the subject out the way. He closed his eyes, wishing those vials were still at his disposal freely. The ilex and athanar was tearing him apart from inside out but there were a whole lot of other ingredients in there exactly for the purpose of numbing that resultant pain. He only slightly turned his eyes involuntarily in the direction of the nightstand and Galion reacted at once by pulling the entire drawer out the vials were in and then throwing them one by one into the bronze paper bin by the writing desk, making sure each broke on impact. Tauriel stayed on her knees, still reeling with the revelation and unsure of how to react. Thranduil knew that there was no point to ordering either of them to give him one of the bottles, he was quite sure that both servant and guard will defy his orders at this time. Tauriel had always had a mind of her own that was hard to reign in and the usually fiercely protective and irreplaceable Galion had the tendency to even refuse serving him his wine if he deemed his master had too much. Thranduil let out a shaky breath that did nothing to untie the weight in his chest. He masked rubbing his aching belly by turning to his side at the same time and curling up with his back to them. If they weren't going to help him, then he will have to do it the old fashioned way and wait for deliverance from suffering when it would maybe finally come on its own. None of this was graceful, but he couldn't care less. 

Tbc


	5. Label

Chapter 5: Label

“I am here as you requested,” Tauriel arrived to the double doors leading to King Thranduil's bedchambers with an uneasy gait, her pace alternatively slowing and speeding up depending on whether she got lost in thought with worry over the reason of her summoning or whether she woke from her stupor and hurried her steps to offer her assistance with whatever it was needed for. 

“You need to tend to him...” Galion received her in the king's antechamber, hands clasped together nervously, clearly in no better mental state than herself. 

“Who has replaced Gobel?” The elleth asked perplexed.

“Thranduil won't let anyone touch him for fear that word would get out about his wish to abandon his people. You already know what happened so it is you or no one.”

“He would let me help?” The redhead wondered dubiously.

“Yes. Yes, I mentioned your name and he did not object like he objected with everyone else.”

Tauriel shook her head apologetically, “if he wishes to fade, I'm not sure there is much I could do.” 

“I don't care anymore. He goes or he stays, either way, I can't watch him in so much pain. He doesn't complain, but he can't help it, his involuntary moans escape sometimes and I can't listen to it anymore! Tauriel, please do something!”

“Physical pain?” Tauriel needed answers. 

“Decidedly. He won't move his hands away from his belly..”

Tauriel had to swallow her renewed worry. How much damage had the poisons done? Were they wrong when they judged the amounts not to be sufficient to permanently harm him? She nodded at the butler to let her in. It was with a heavy heart that she peered at the bed's occupant, almost too afraid to regard him. She did not expect his jewel eyes to meet hers immediately, alert to the world around him, yet with mist behind them that spoke of a reality antithetic to their own. On his side towards her this time, he was indeed holding his stomach with something that looked like sheer determination rather than anything else as if his fingertips clawing into it could stop it from hurting. 

The redhead momentarily wondered where his rings have gone and had to assume Galion must've taken them off at some point to make him more comfortable. Thranduil seemed to try to keep a control of his minute shaking, his heavy breathing giving away how hard it was for him to hold that control. It still infused Tauriel with hope. Whatever his reason was for fighting, he took it up and in stride. She bowed to him, breaking eye contact, “Galion thinks I could be of assistance to you, My Lord. Please be mindful that I am your dedicated servant, please allow me to pledge my devotion and grateful allegiance,” Tauriel deemed appropriate to stress as the previous times she mentioned her change of heart he did not seem to be aware of her efforts much. 

A cursory cloud of irritation passed Thranduil's features, as much annoyance as he could spare for anything above his sorrow. “Truly.” With the raise of an eyebrow, he spat the word accusatorily. The hoarse quality of his voice however toned down the arrogance and it sounded nothing like him. 

Tauriel could not say much different in regards to her loyalties than she had before so she unheeded his reproach. “There's no need for you to suffer like this. Please My Liege, let me aid you. You may not be fully aware, but I have an extensive knowledge of potions and herbs, as well as anatomy and also of illnesses that might plague any species.” She offered respectfully.

“I am aware of more than you give me credit for,” Thranduil reprimanded, “Galion, leave us.” He ordered.

“No way.” The butler planted his feet resolutely closer, “you are not convincing yet another healer to give you something that eases you into the next world.”

“I could reassign you for that insolence!” The invalid seemed tacken aback and somewhat impressed by the boldness at the same time. 

“But you won't.” Galion held, “you won't bring in a replacement who would light upon your innermost secrets. I'm not leaving. If you will accept Tauriel's help, you will accept it in my presence.”

“Tauriel won't take orders from me either, not ones she does not agree with,” Thranduil seemed somewhat entertained by the manservant's outburst. He had known the ellon to forget about hierarchy in wine induced merriments but never sober, not before this. “Isn't that right, Tauriel? What's more, she can relate to the sorrow I feel, the wish to be somewhere else, with someone else.”

“My Lord, we all felt grief settling above our people intemperately,” Galion argued, “we can all share the suffering of each and every one of us and take comfort in the ones still here. I can see it happening everywhere in the halls, elves lingering, extending gaze and touch. It helps, it gives a sense of belonging.”

“Please, do not ask me for poisons,” the elleth pleaded also. Dealing with the king's stubbornness was always challenging. 

“How so? Wouldn't that be advantageous? Legolas ruling with you directing him from the background, to the benefit of all allies?” Thranduil held casually. 

Tauriel shook her head vehemently, “that was never my intention. It would sadden him greatly to lose another parent, especially at this time.”

“Legolas..” The monarch's blue eyes seemed ruminative. “Feren gave me word earlier that they have located him and that he is on his way here. He shall be arriving before nightfall and I want to remind you, both, that he shall have no wind of what the real cause of my ailment is for that would also disappoint him immensely.”

The redhead regarded him dubiously, “if he sees you in this state, it will be apparent you're not simply fading naturally. And so suddenly too.”

“Which is why I will have to accept whatever you offer,” Thranduil allowed reluctantly with a slight nod of his head.

“We don't have much time till nightfall,” the personal guard observed. 

“I'm not expecting miracles, no one can heal a hollow heart.” The sick elf gave in to a wince. If Tauriel was his healer, there was less scope for pretext. 

“May I ask your symptoms? Which ones need subdued to get you to an acceptable state?”

Thranduil cast a reproachful look at Galion, but then decided against sending him away now that they've established his non-suicidal intentions for the time being. Arguing with or giving an unwavering order to the fiercely protective ellon would have still taken too much of his strength he needed for other things. Plus if the servant was present, he might pick up on how to help at other times when Tauriel was not there. “The nausea and stomach pains have to be curbed at least,” he informed her without as much as blinking, in a tone as if he would have been speaking about a guard change. 

“Alright,” the redhead softened her voice. She had never really heard the king complaining as opposed to accusing someone before, so the experience made her tone suddenly tender and sympathetic. She was neither on the offensive, nor defending herself anymore. “My King, it would be useful to know if it is the lower part of your belly or the upper part, as they require different potions.”

“Both,” Thranduil provided irritated, “the middle the most,” he provided very unhelpfully, his arms protectively round the area still. 

“Right. Are you aware of all the poisons that you were given?” She changed tack, “we know of klytun, athanar, ilex and juth, all detected in small amounts. For the latter, I came prepared with snowdragon as an antidote, that should take care of the nausea. Was there anything else we missed?”

“Traces of Quilmufur I believe, perhaps?” Her master appeared more certain than his tone would've indicated on its own. He wanted the interrogation over with and the problem sorted immediately as it was increasingly difficult to hold still and not give into twisting round and into his sheets as the cramps would have propelled him.

Tauriel's mouth opened in realisation, “that would explain the wide-reaching gastrointestinal symptoms. The effects should pass on their own if not added to, but not till tonight, not even with the draaf leaves and ulmus bark infusion I'm going to give you.”

“Can't you use athelas?” The butler hoped.

“That is more suited for wounds. I cannot tell what ingesting it would do to already ravaged intestines. And it's not like I can actually consult someone else, so we will have to go by what I think, unfortunately,” Tauriel admitted, “but I have another idea. I will come back with everything we need shortly.”

“It will do,” Thranduil gave his consent. He only added “hurry,” after she was out of earshot. The pain would hardly give him any chance for other thoughts and for the moment, he was thankful he did not have to present a front for a bit and that his only task was to survive the next while till the promised relief was given to him.

Tbc


	6. Signature

Chapter 6: Signature

Tauriel was reasonably satisfied with her work. Thanks to her potions and enchantments, Thranduil now lay in a more dignified and regal position, motionless and spread out on his back, albeit lines of pain were continuing to mark his face in a subtle manner while he stared at nothing. Her hand however she did not dare to take off his stomach. He never verbally indicated this, but it seemed to the elleth that it was mainly her perpetual and unremitting reciting of a spell she transferred the effects of through her hand slowly rubbing his belly that brought him to an acceptable condition. If only she could find a way to address his emotional state too. Thinking about how to possibly engage him in a conversation or get him to intromit the affinity of their situations, she only realised someone was approaching when the doors banged closed behind Legolas. Tauriel froze for a moment before she withdrew her hand as if burnt. 

Legolas came to a similar, dismayed halt. He didn't expect those two on the same lands, never mind in physical contact. “What is happening?” He demanded. “Were you injured in battle?”

“Ion nin,” Thranduil turned his head towards him and raised a welcoming hand in his direction, holding it out and consequently effectively disarming the younger ellon's ebullition for the moment. His voice was quiet and preternatural.

Legolas understood that he was to take his father's hand in his own, a rare request, a gesture he did not remember when he'd honoured last. “A vast weight lays on Mirkwood, I did not realise how profound. Forgive me ada, for I did not see the magnitude of the burthen each elf now carries. It was not my intention to run away from that.” The touch startled him. While flames were alight in the fireplace and he was encircled by heavy covers, Thranduil's hand felt so very cold as if it was him coming in from the icy winter planes outside and not the other way round. 

“It was not my intention to keep you from your travels,” Thranduil countered, “for it is of the essence for a prince to experience the world's ways before he becomes king. I did not call you back, the messengers were already sent out by the time I could withdraw the order.”

“You're clearly unwell, ada,” the archer felt thrown by the affectional and personal manifestation his father received him with. He had been emotional at their farewell on Ravenhill, but this felt more profound than just a continuation of that note.

“What were you told exactly?”

“Only to haste back because you collapsed at the funerals. Ada, how could that happen.” Legolas looked astonished and disbelieving. 

Thranduil closed his eyes for a moment, relieved his son was practically clueless. “Do not concern yourself ion-nin, I will be well.” Tauriel's head snapped up at that. It sounded like a promise, did he really mean it? It made Thranduil remember she was still present and so she was forthwith ushered out with a move of his hand. 

Legolas shook his head, “I am sorry ada, for not seeing the needs of my people,” he provided truthfully. He had wanted to put distance between himself and Tauriel, as well as his father and the troubles of relating to both of them, but he did already have second thoughts about his timing as soon as he left behind the valley where the battle took place. It was sobering seeing Thranduil crushed by it all. He had always wished for the king to be more emotional and it seemed like the 'be careful what you wish for' saying was coming true. “How are you feeling?”

Thranduil withdrew his hand and placed it on his son's shoulder instead encouragingly, “I have learnt methods of overcoming hardship over the millennia.”

“What can I do?” The younger ellon offered. Being a king was lonely job, that much he knew and he wished he could ease that burden for Thranduil for now. 

“Our people need reassurance and compassion in their mourning. And perhaps it is for the best if they receive it from their sprightly prince rather than their dispirited king. You need to visit each and every family with departed loved ones and thank them for staying and deciding to hold on to a future for elvenkind here in this realm. Then, there's the matter of reassignment. Many positions are waiting to be filled with the best choices, some will need to be encouraged to change professions so that we can get the remaining population working together at optimum for the benefit of all. In a similar way to how Tauriel has been taken off guard duties for obvious reasons and appointed as healer.”

“I don't doubt her skills as healer, I've seen them at work, but is she really the best choice for attending to your needs?” Legolas finally addressed the elephant in the room. 

Thranduil waved him off, “my needs are minuscular,” he undervalued his requirements, “time and rest should take care of most of them. Tauriel, however, she has no experience of how to deal with loss, never mind this scale of losses. She does not remember her parents, she had been too young when she'd lost them. Same way as you don't remember your mother.”

“How is she not banished?” The younger elf could not follow his father's reasoning in this new turn of events. 

“We can't afford to lose a single elf, not with our numbers dwindling so, whole families destroyed. She had shown regret and I have been gracious. I'm afraid I have no spirit for conflict.”

“You're keeping her close,” Legolas questioned his points of discombobulation further. 

“She had always been privileged close, closer than most of our subjects. I see no reason to change that.”

“Ada,” the prince looked at him like he had lost his mind along with his spiritedness. He himself had defended Tauriel at Dale and stood in his father's way in case he decided to harm her, but he wanted no harm coming to Thranduil either. “Have you forgotten she held you at arrowhead?”

“My decision is final. Tauriel will follow my orders and so will you,” Thranduil considered the conversation over, frowning, “I am tired,” he claimed, with no amount of exaggeration. “Leave me.” That manner of talk from him at least made some sense to Legolas. 

Tbc


	7. Autograph

Chapter 7: Autograph 

Legolas came to halt at the light, almost see through curtain that separated Thranduil's bedroom from the entrance to his balcony, a naturally occurring planoconcave hollow in the side of the mountain that was hidden by vegetation for anyone looking up from the valleys. His father was sitting on a reclining chair, staring up at the skies, his wine filled goblet forgotten in his hand. It wasn't an unfamiliar sight for Legolas to find him like this, half estranged from the world around him. The prince loathed the resultant distance between them, though this time he understood more of the cause for his father's withdrawnness. Having spent the last few days relating to members of their society that have just experienced deep loss, he also understood some more of the weight that lay day by day on Thranduil's shoulders. It wasn't a burden he wished to take on very soon, or preferably ever. “Are you feeling better, Ada?” He hoped, encouraged by his father's venture outside his rooms.

“I am,” Thranduil turned his head slowly, gracefully towards him. He was not surprised by the younger elf's appearance, more like he expected it and was on his guard all the time to look and act as if he was healthier than he felt. “But you already know that. Didn't you think Galion would tell me that you ask him for reports in regards to my wellbeing every night.”

“He tells me you have started to eat and take an interest in everyday happenings. But I have not seen you so taken up before. There are rumours around the Halls you are fading,” he accused. 

“It is the rumours that will fade, in time. Contrary to what many of you think, I'm not made of stone. I was affected by sorrow, but I will get the better of it, as I always do. Come, sit by me,” he indicated the other chair close to him.

Legolas wandered over unhurriedly and took his place in a way he could focus on his father, but also the densely forested mountain range the view from the balcony offered. Up here, connectedness with nature was spontaneous and instinctive and Legolas could see how it was easier to retreat into this holistic circle, hide out rather than having to deal with the everyday burdens of elven lives. And yet, in his striking loneliness, Thranduil never seemed more afflicted by everyone's pain. It made Legolas flinch and almost forgive his father for all his trespasses. Almost. Shaking the thought off, he held out a parchment, “I have all the names written down, elves who will take on additional or different duties from before. I believe we have everything cardinal covered.”

Thranduil took the animal skin roll at leisure, making no attempt to open it and look at it. His ringed hand simply dropped it into his lap, “I have no doubt that you have achieved the task befittingly.”

“I am prepared to offer to add my name as guard, soldier, administrator, trainer, carpenter, for as long as it's needed. You have requirements to fill in all those areas.”

“You are the Prince!” Thranduil raised cutting eyes at him, “and while you may arbitrarily indulge in any of those activities at leisure, you will never label yourself as such. Your people need to know that higher ranks are watching over them. As for the remaining vacancies, do not trouble yourself. On the short term, we can have elves share tasks and on the longer term, I have a plan.”

“How can I help you with this plan?” Legolas offered obediently like it would be expected from a faithful son, but Thranduil could not shake the feeling that his words were cold, that in reality not much had changed between them. He halted the offer with a gesture of his hand, “it will take time to devise and formulate in a way that it can be passed down for the council for implementation. As I said, do not concern yourself over it.”

“As you wish,” the prince lowered his head in respect. It looked like the king wanted to deal with the matter himself and as such, it was little that could be argued about it as per usual.

“You are free to pursue your intended plans you were called back from,” Thranduil stated unwaveringly. Legolas did not need to know that his insides turned with it, that it was nearly as hard letting his only son go as if he would've departed for the Undying Lands. But he knew that keeping the boy there against his will would only be detrimental to their relationship. “It was not my intention to keep your from your travels,” he stressed. “You have friendships and future alliances to forge in the benefit of our people.”

“Very well,” the shorter elf nodded. His plans and motives for his departure did not change, but he was less sure of the validity of his plans in the face of duties that might befall on the prince in the case of the king's indisposition. A part of him was apprehensive about his father's surprising state of health, but he had to admit that being given a renewed permission to leave felt like a big relief. If Thranduil said he had things under control, then it was so. “I will depart with the daybreak. However, I will send frequent word about my whereabouts, shall you need me at any point.”

“Thank you, ion-nin,” Thranduil extended a hand towards him in a similar fashion as he had been on his son's arrival back. Saying good bye for the second time did not feel any easier and while their previous farewell was as heartfelt as it could be under the circumstances, he intended this one to further show the intensity of his feelings towards Legolas.

Sitting that close, the younger elf could hardly decline taking the offered hand and lower himself to kiss the ringed fingers, the jewelled one in particular that he knew his parent wore in remembrance of his late wife. Thranduil squeezed his fingers back, taking a moment before releasing them, along with his gaze he held. The rift between them of course could not be mended with such a small gesture, so the younger elf stood and departed without looking back.

“I love you...” Thranduil mouthed while he followed the form disappearing behind the divider curtains, then closed his eyes for a moment, keeping Legolas' last image imprinting on his mind. He would not let those tears fall, not again. Despite how miserable he was still feeling, it would partially be for his son's sake that he would intend to make the land flourish till the heir to the throne came back, make the nation as great as it could become for Legolas not to inherit trouble. 

Tbc


	8. Proclamation

Chapter 8: Proclamation

“Councillors Argalad and Rilorfir are here,” Galion reported casually. He did not expect objections from his master, for it was him who had dressed and adorned the still convalescing king given how certain Thranduil had been that the scrolls he had passed on to the council for implementing will have a stirring effect before long. Making the effort to sit at his desk rather than in his bed, he received the council members turning back from staring out the window with a lofty tilt of his head, eyebrows raised and hinting at scepticism. 

Both elders bowed deeply, more respectfully and apprehensively than their lengthy centuries long indisputable service in the council would have allowed. “I apologise for the interference. We understand your indisposition to come down to our meetings,” Rilofir started, “and therefore we ask to grant our wish to speak with you in the name of all members who did not come up to disturb you,” she presented their starting point. 

“You took your sweet time,” Thranduil commented with a wave of his hand that allowed further conversation.

“If you've been expecting us, then you surely understand our disarray,” the elleth trod carefully. 

“I understand your disarray, but I also understand the council is there to serve their king and the people,” the ruler solidified his no uncertain terms. 

Rilofir and Argalad shared a supportive look with each other before Argalad stepped forward this time, “I am sorry My Lord, it is maybe that we misunderstood the terms of the decree, because it seemed to us that your orders are contrary to the elven way of life.”

Albeit leaning on the desk to stand up, Thranduil got to his full height and walked round the piece of furniture to tower over his bowing councillors. “The elven way of life is fated to make our species extinct. If we don't reproduce at faster rates, our people will be entirely gone within centuries. I will not let that happen. I have been thinking about this option for many decades, and our recent losses demonstrate the need for such action. I want every unmated elf coupled within a year, which is no less than the lower limit of time a modal courtship would require, and a pregnancy to show for it. As for those already coupled or linked, with or without a descendant, they will need to produce more offspring, also within a year. It has been foolish expecting our kind to endure with in the main, producing only one child per couple, regardless of how immortal our lives may commonly seem. Millennia down the line, there is a need for change and I will bring about that change. Or, is it that you all want to simply sail to Valinor?” He waved irritatedly. “Not many, but we have children, young elflings in our midst. We have a duty to them, to assure they partake of a long life and a lasting legacy as well like we had the privilege to.”

“We understand, My Lord,” Rilofir soothed, “there is cause for change indeed. For couples to bring more children into the world. New couplings for that cause. We think we can follow through with those, make our people realize the necessity for such proceedings. It is merely that we fear that those with better halves waiting for them in the Undying Lands will oppose your edict. It is unheard of to force these elves remarry if they do not wish to,” she stated the obvious, wondering if the king has lost his mind along with his health.

“I'm not asking them to bond, not necessarily. I'm only asking for offspring. The older our race has gotten, the more we have forgotten that our happiest times were when bearing and raising children.”

“Bodily union without the union of spirit?” Argalad questioned decidedly scandalised, making him forget convention.

“It is unusual, I admit, but there's precedence. If one wishes, some will be allowed to pair up with mortals instead and forego the problem of an everlasting union. I will also not stop anyone from sailing to Valinor if they decide they cannot go through with my orders.” 

“I do not know if the results will not be counterproductive, My Lord,” the council representative was bold enough to argue further. He found it hard to comprehend what they were asked. 

“I have no use for those who wish to die,” Thranduil declared, not missing the irony in regards to himself. “Those who stay will show their pledging to the cause by abiding to the rule, they will have to prove their willingness to preserve the chance of survival of our race. Understood?”

“Yes, My Lord,” Rilofir provided before her colleague could object. She did not know the fellow councillor as someone who argued with his Highness, none of them did, but these were strange tides. “How do you wish the order to be passed down to the common citizen?”

“The order will be read out at a public assembly called together for the purpose. I will be present and expect my nobles to lead by example and accomplish the requirements in record time.”

“In that case, My Lord, please allow me to denounce my position in the Council and depart to the Undying Lands as I cannot be untruthful to my dear Malufinnel,” Argalad turned back to reverential with the request.

Thranduil held up a hand to silence him, “I will accept your resignation when the time is right. I do not wish to announce the Edict widely yet and for now, I ask for the Council's discretion. I realise that the move might be challenging for some, but nobody can doubt that it will be just as difficult for me. Therefore, the new law will be proclaimed when I am ready to present the nation with a new union of mine as well.”

“Are you planning to remarry?” Argalad heaved, startled. 

“I am planning to conform to the regulation. I am trying to mate and produce another heir is what I'm intending, under whatever circumstances that will come to pass, you have my word,” Thranduil specified nonchalantly.

Argalad let the air out he didn't realise had been holding in his lungs for a while. Well then, this wasn't like any immediate threat. Especially as, “I do not mean to argue, Your Highness, but given the happenings at the funeral and the consequent time the prince had taken over royal duties for, the court is well aware that you are unwell, My Lord. I would like to extend our people's concern for you...”

“Are you insinuating I am not in my right mind by any chance!” The head of the monarchy interrupted, room frozen to an iceberg with his outburst, apart from the echo of his irascible voice. He sucked some air in to calm himself and take control over his responses. It had been way too easy to become emotional these days. 

“No, no,” the same councillor was quick to reply, “it is simply that we would like to see you healthy and fear adventurous oeuvre might further affect your eudaimonia. It is in your and all our interests, My Lord, that I ask you do not deplete yourself. The remaining elves will need you, especially if some more choose to depart instead of re-create,” he pointed out the same by him perceived fallacy in the edict, “I'm afraid there might be unwillingness.”

Thranduil rolled his eyes, his bad mood darkening. No wonder he had felt suicidal himself, surrounded by older elves. That needed to change too and maybe it was for the best if that apathetic strata of the population left and entrusted the survival of the species to those who were able to embrace a different worldview. “Do not talk to me of unwillingness! I have faith in my subjects, Argalad, nor am I afraid of adventures of an amorous nature.” He had enough of a conversation where he was opposed. He waved a dismissive hand and gave a sidewards nod to his guards to open the door for the delegate and them leaving. “You will be summoned when the next step is due,” he turned his back to them. 

Tbc


	9. In Stone

Chapter 9: In Stone

Galion could barely wait till the doors closed behind everyone and worriedly rushed at his master's aid, shall he need his support getting to the bed. “It was a long day, My Lord,” the butler made Thranduil aware of the availability of his assistance from a step away.

The Elvenking ignored him this time, and his spinning head. He just about managed to keep himself from stumbling when he turned, then he draped himself over his pillows as gracefully as he could, refusing to give up control over appearances even if the very person with him was the one who had seen him in his most vulnerable states out of all. It was time to start acting like the crowned head he was again, for at least as much as he could manage. So he only raised a leg up for the manservant to remove his boot and threw his winter crown offhandedly beside him on the bed. He will rest but it doesn't have to look like the collapse he felt like. He stared for a moment, then rose himself out his reverie. Sitting didn't mean no action could be taken. “What do you think of the edict, Galion?”

“No one should be surprised by King Thranduil making a bold move,” the dark haired servant said diplomatically while untying the laces on his lord's boots.

“Your honest opinion, mellon,” Thranduil encouraged with a raise of his chin, his otherwise emotionless blue eyes taking on a tinge if warmth when looking at him. 

“I believe it may be the only way to overcome our current plights. Though I do wonder what it will mean for me in practice,” Galion gently arranged Thranduil's legs so that they were positioned comfortably on the bed the way he liked it. 

“Raweru.”

Galion froze, his breath stopping with it. He did not expect his king to know of the elleth he coveted, never mind her name. His heart filled with even more fondness for his master. “I receive frequent reports from the trading outpost she's stationed at and I believe she has not promised herself to anyone else,” Thranduil surprised further, “as far as I could tell, you have made a lasting impression on her that deepens with every sojourn of hers. She is waiting for you.”

“My Lord...” It was all Galion could manage, eyes averted in his embarrassment.

“It is part of my duties to observe,” the ruler wanted to ease the other's disquiet.

“We have spent pleasant evenings together,” the butler admitted, “but I have never encouraged her to stay unwed and never expected to be able to act on our sympathies.”

“Because you never imagined giving up on your duties as my principal personal servant. You take the occasional drunken night off, but don't trust anyone else to tend to my needs the same way as you do.”

Galion made a gesture as close to a nonchalant shrug as a common elf was capable of, “well, there's that..”

“I appreciate your loyalty and agree with your assessment,” Thranduil established, “however, you are not exempt from the edict.” It almost sounded like playful teasing. 

The servant would have had to lie if he were to say that no amount of excitement energised his body at those words. “Sire, I would like nothing more than encounter her again, but Fangorn is almost four hundred miles away.”

Thranduil made a depreciative flourish with his hand slowly, the regality of the motion always accentuated by the moving of his robes, “which is why you are leaving, with immediate effect. You will take a letter to Raweru that reassigns her as mercantile communications agent stationed here at the Halls.” His commandeering tone remained soft with his truehearted friend.

“But My Lord, how could I leave you when you are unwell!”

Thranduil reached out towards his servant at that, impressed by the concern, and gave the other's arm a heartening squeeze. “My dear fellow, we both recognize I am not going to get better than I am at present, any time soon,” he held on a voice much quieter than his subjects were used to from him. He sighed irritably and sagged somewhat, his long, delicate fingers rubbing at his forehead pensively. “You may as well start on your journey to felicity.”

Galion looked torn. He did not want to argue with his king again and what use would it be anyway when his master had that stupid stubborn face on, but it very much did not feel right abandoning him now. It was hard to disregard the periodically clenching fists as he sometimes struggled to keep his hurting under control. “How in the name of Valar could I be happy when I know you suffer!”

Thranduil gave another disregarding hand gesture. “I will survive. Know that you carry through my will, that's all you need to know. Withal, as you are so troubled, I will take advisement in regards to your providing me with a list of your candidates for your replacement in your absence,” he inhaled deeply to continue, “I don't want many elves digging their noses into my business, two or three perhaps, most trusted ones, preferably some that already know my routine of late, with one of them overseeing the others the same way as you do when you're available. Who do you propose?” He encouraged with a thin smile. 

The younger elf moved from one foot to the other, rather hesitant. He had to calm and steel himself before speaking. “You are right in your assumption that I do not trust any other servants to cater to your precise needs on the button, especially not now. You would not be satisfied with them, I am sure. I do not know if my recommendation is legitimate as Tauriel is way more than a servant and some of your officers and councillors would contend it, but it is her I would put your care in the hands of,” Galion peered at his master apprehensively.

“Tauriel charmed you as well,” Thrandruil raised eyebrows, not too surprised even so. “She will accept and so will my court,” he decided, “send her up, let's start her up on her duties immediately.” He sounded hoarse and apathetic, getting more tired by the minute, and slightly surprised by the weakness in his own voice. Was is as obvious to others as it was to him? “You have a long trip to Fangorn ahead of you and I expect you to come back with a bride.”

tbc


	10. Agenda

Chapter 10: Agenda

Thranduil eyed the unquestionably light breakfast Tauriel served him with. There were only a few slices of fruit and cheese, no contest in calories and fat content to the pheasant and coot eggs he normally favoured on a morning before a training workout or a ride in the forest. But of course he had partaken in neither of those for weeks now and the simple thought of swallowing any sustenance turned his stomach. He pushed the bowl away, “maybe later.”

Tauriel gave him a small, sympathetic smile, “I've not had any appetite myself since our return to the Halls but we need to consider that our bodies do need at least a little nourishment once in a while,” she tried to remind him. 

The reply was a long-suffering sigh. He was tired of having to explain himself, “foodstuff makes the cramps worse.”

The elleth peered at him warily, “what cramps.” Thranduil pulled a hand closer to his belly as a response. Tauriel eyed him up and down probingly. “All poisons should have cleared out from your system by now,” she sounded perplexed. 

“I know that!” It sounded like a petulant child's words.

“Would you mind an examination?” The redhead offered. 

“You're the healer,” came the non-committal answer, though Thranduil did lean back and slide down into his pillows a little more, showing willingness.

Tauriel moved forward slowly. It was one thing to examine him when he was barely conscious or distracted by pain and another when he was fully aware. Not wanting to spend too much time on guessing and inference based on energy flows, she decided to go straight for feeling out the apparently offending organ and placed her palm gently atop of the thin white linen nightwear covering Thranduil's abdomen. His muscles barely tensed at the touch, but that was because they were already constricted, with hardly room for any more tightening. Under them, as if there was a chaotic whirlpool, she sensed his guts clamping together just the same. Moved into being scandalised out of her concern for him, she accused outright, “do you happen to have any more hidden stashes of Gobel's vials? Haven't you made yourself suffer enough yet!”

Thranduil flinched at the outburst, though it had more to do with his belly cramping than her insolence. “Think, Tauriel. Wouldn't I be fading if I took any more of those poisons.”

She reigned herself in and gave the reasoning momentary consideration. “I apologise, my Liege. I admit, that would make sense, but it also is out of the question you would still be suffering aftereffects.”

With no scope to hiding his affliction no more, Thranduil placed a hand on his stomach. “I promise you that I'm taking no active motions to undermine my health. In fact, I am asking for your help,” he admitted. 

“Are there any other symptoms?” Tauriel was ready to consider. 

“The pains make me weak and lightheaded at times as they come and go and it's hard to sleep.”

“You've been suffering in silence all this time? I can offer symptomatic relief, but we need to shed some light on what's really going on if we are to gain real results.”

“Symptomatic sounds good right now,” Thranduil's fingers slid round his midsection. 

Tauriel gave eager nods. “I will go and put together a potion for you, but please, my Lord, let me involve a wiser and more experienced healer. Elvellon would already be suspecting what's been going on, I would really like to have his expertise on hand, don't you trust his discretion, Your Majesty?”

“I don't know him well,” Thranduil remained somewhat guarded. “I believe he's dedicated more time by the Misty Mountains attending to Woodmen than he'd spent with his own kind.”

“He is a good person,” Tauriel vouched simply, not deeming it an appropriate time to mention that the elf in question came back into the fold after his mortal Northman wife died. “And he had always proved his loyalties going the extra mile if one of our soldiers got injured on patrol round his way. I've known him for over three hundred years.”

“Pft,” the older elf expressed sarcasm over her viewing three hundred years as a long time. Sometimes it skipped his mind how ridiculously young Tauriel still was. “Whatever. I suppose I will take your judgement of his character.”

“I will talk to him straightaway,” the redhead started retreating. 

“No!” The king beckoned her back. 

“I thought you had agreed?..” Tauriel was confounded.

“Yes but...” Thranduil didn't attempt to meet her eyes and looked somewhat diffident, “your conference, mixing of potions, it might take a while. Is there something you can do right now, to alleviate the roiling.”

Tauriel swallowed in surprisal. For Thranduil to admit weakness and ask such a thing, he really had to have been hurting badly. “I will try,” she promised and sat down timidly on the edge of his bed to place her hand back on his belly. “I will do a spell to relax your innards. It won't have lasting effects and it will only be symptomatic,” she warned. At his miserable nod, she closed her eyes and channelled her powers first to spread warmth in his belly, then a smoothing sensation that was like rubbing his insides gently. Relief relied completely on the overwhelming of senses, nerves were too busy experiencing a multitude of sensations to be able to register pain very often. Tauriel snapped her eyes open at his moan to find that it wasn't of discomfort that caused it and realise that her hand was making a rubbing motion round his stomach in reality as well. It was him who had his eyes closed and his face took on a hallow quality. It was only now that he looked a lot calmer that she realised how different and agitated he had been under the surface earlier. Removing her hand felt like a sin, but it had to be done. 

Thranduil blinked his eyes slowly open. “You have a way with those powers. How long will the spell last?”

“Maybe an hour. Longer if you don't exert yourself. Please rest, move as little as possible, do not jostle your abdomen. I will be hurrying as much as possible,” she promised with a benevolent nod.

Tbc


	11. Pronunciamento

Chapter 11: Pronunciamento

Thranduil woke to the same soothing sensations spreading in his stomach as he had become accustomed to from Tauriel over the last few days. Her hands were like blessed and he treasured their work most when she accompanied her enchantments with a physical touch, her gentle rub. He instinctually turned to feel those magical fingers closer. The effect however was counterproductive as the elleth pulled back, conscientious, “I apologise my Lord, I did not mean to wake you, it's just that you seemed uncomfortable in your sleep.”

“You did the right thing,” Thranduil wished he could order those hands back, but that would have given the appearance of him being more needy and personal than he wanted to appear. So he just pulled up on his pillows instead, set to trouble himself with the problems of the kingdom for the day, should they present themselves. 

“No change?” Tauriel noted his unwavering expression, a sure sign that he was concealing some pain. 

“I am well enough,” he assured, “send in Rilorfir, let's see what the Council has for me today.”

The redhead handed him his morning tonic sitting at the ready on the nightstand, a potion made to strengthen him as well as serve as an analgesic and anti-spasmodic, the best intermixture Elvellon could come up with after his own examination of the monarch. “My Lord...” She started bashfully, “I would like you to get better, not just get through the day with my help. I can't do it on my own and I do not know if you're trying.”

“What is it you're accusing me of now!” Thranduil's mood seemed momentarily affected not just by her words but the taste of the medicine as well. 

“Do you still want to die?” Tauriel dared, but she knew it had to be addressed. 

“Do I want to die! If I wanted to die I would have sailed already when Legolas was here, don't you think!” He spat contumaciously. 

“You might say that, with your mind and perhaps with some of your heart as well, but your body seems to have other ideas. Elvellon thinks that the explanation for your continuing illness is that your body won't eliminate the poisons completely as it wants to hold on to the possibility of passing. You will keep being unwell unless you convince it otherwise and only you can do that.”

“Drivel!” Thranduil dismissed the theory outwardly along with the rest of his tonic he shoved back into his ex captain's hands. Currently he was in no mood for anything that came from Elvellon. 

“With all due respect Sire, do you have another explanation for your illness.”

He sucked in a breath because of her insolence. “Quiet! Do you want me to repeat myself!” 

“Rilorfir is overseeing the distribution of sowing seeds among farmer families for the spring today,” Tauriel got back to the subject of his orders. 

“Is someone else waiting to see me then.” Thranduil pushed, irritated that he had to prompt her with the day's agenda. 

“Only Elvellon,” the archer admitted wearily as the reason for the visit would be obvious, “he is just trying to help if you wish it so.”

“Send him on his way!” With all his might and age, Thranduil still sounded like a petulant child. 

Tauriel bowed to accentuate her benevolent intentions, “my Liege, I want you well, as does the rest of your kingdom. Only a spirited king can force his nation to change its ways.”

“Whatever you're talking about!” Thranduil's eyes went to the desk where a draft of his edict was lying rolled up. “Have you read the parchment!”

“I..I am deeply sorry my Lord. I was sitting here watching over you all night and...I didn't mean to intrude, I was merely pottering around. Please forgive me, I did not know it was a secret document. Is it a secret document?”

Thranduil inclined his head sideways, “it will be common knowledge soon enough, what I want is your opinion,” he looked at her intently. Honesty he did not need to ask for as her ex guard was always true to herself. 

Tauriel's smile was saturnine, “well, my Lord, if I understand it well, that decree just gave me the blessing to be with whomever I want to be, may that be a dwarf or any other species. Too bad it's too late.”

The older elf's eyes widened somewhat, “I would hardly think many elves would have the ludicrous notion to choose a dwarf, or otherwise I would have to change my wording.”

This time, the elleth's smile was more genuine, self-aware of how unusual her recent path had been. “I have detested you for a long time for your unwillingness to accept change,” she started her real answer, “and I am profoundly impressed by your suggestions if I may.”

“It's not a suggestion. It will be law,” he gave a displeased sigh.

“Of course, my Lord.”

“Does that mean you'll comply? You've obviously had time to think about it in the night.” Thranduil tested the waters of how his ordinary citizens will react. Because no matter how steadfast he showed himself outwardly, he had not felt so uncertain in his role even since first inheriting the crown. “A child is all that's asked from you, not to love another,” he stressed in view of her recent loss. 

“It's hard for me to think about such things right now, my Lord,” she referred to the same events, steeling herself for possible disagreements.

“But you don't rebut the idea, do you?” 

“No, Aran nin. I am your loyal servant,” she felt like making sure he understood that she felt regretful about her disobedience.

“Very well, that is all I wanted to verify,” Thranduil moved to get out of bed, surprising the elleth with the sudden agility, “send a servant in, I want to select some garments for a day of open audience with my people.”

tbc


	12. Cortege

Chapter 12: Cortege

The next morning, Tauriel woke up to one of the king's maidservants knocking on her door. “Something wrong?” Worried for his welfare, she felt guilty for sleeping in even though it was Elvellon's turn to check up on the king on this morning.

“I don't think so,” Lendis bowed to her, presenting her with a light wood, long box. The servant was relatively new in her role at the Halls and therefore honoured the much longer serving elleth with corresponding formalities. “Our Lord sends you this,” she curtsied and withdrew. 

Tauriel stared at the item taken aback for a moment before placing it atop of her bed to slide the lid to the side and open the mysterious package. Inside it she was intrigued to find a dozen dark-wood arrows with brown and green patterned feathers and the royal insignia. Atop of them, a letter rolled up and held together by a thin branch of oiolaire wrapped round it, the fragrant leaves giving the whole case the illusion of sea-air, which is why the tree had been brought by elves from the island of Tol Eressea and cultivated at the part of the forest Tauriel's family came from. It was this fragrancy that startled her the most as she had no knowledge of the tree being found anywhere near the caves they were dwelling in and she would know, she knew the forest like the palm of her hand. The scent brought her to a standstill and she plopped down beside the package on her bed, deeply moved by the experience. It took her back to her childhood and much happier times, a time of promise and wonder. It is with reverence and shaking hands that she reached for the paper, keen to find some sort of explanation for all this startling surprise from the text written unmistakably with Thranduil's widely spaced, stately and rounded letters.

My dearest Flower of the Forest,

please do not misunderstand the offering. I consider you one of the best healers this realm has ever had and I would be felicitous if you would continue your work as such, but I am well aware that your heart lies with the responsibilities of a soldier and a life largely led in the open air of the forest. Please accept these arrows as proof of my permittance for you to rejoin the Personal Guard's ranks as Captain shall you decide so. You are fully forgiven for your mistakes and you are not to speak of them in the future. You shall spend the day unrestricted to reflect on the offer and I shall look forward to hearing your decision tonight at an informal dinner in my quarters. You will not be required to report for duty at any time today. 

Thranduil.

Tauriel was still holding the air in her lungs, shock making her eyes widen, excitation making her shoulders shake. She had hoped for this chance, but never thought it could come to pass so quickly, that she would earn it so easily. It was too good to be true. The redhead resorted to shaking her head in disbelief, negotiating with her brain to take the news in because it wasn't just the message that did not make sense but the candour that it was presented with did not either. The arrows were from a private collection she had admired and coveted, one that Legolas himself was rarely given access to and the branch was such a personalised touch and a formidable one. Thranduil must have remembered the trees that grew round her family home, there was no way this was a coincidence. She would ask him where he got it from..Tauriel swung her door open and without bothering to close it, she burst into a sprint. His relieving her of duties for the day and offering his forgiveness when she did not deserve it, certainly not yet, had to add up to one thing. He could be settling business to be able to have an attempt on his life again. Hyperventilating in her anxiousness, she did not take any chances and exploded into Thranduil's bedchambers unannounced and unsolicited, “my King, are you alright?”

Thranduil turned from his mirror where he stood barefoot and barechested, in nothing but his breeches, body damp from possibly having just washed himself, blond hair not quite flowing as smoothly as usual as it clustered in wet locks. It is that it seemed that the king was trying to remedy by combing his own golden hair. It was only early spring and the snow had barely melted so the flame was still alight in the fireplace, giving his skin the illusion of a healthier tone. “What's happened?” He looked at her intently.

Tauriel took a deep breath, her distress taking on a different shape. While she had seen his torso bare on a number of occasions recently in her capacity as a healer, it was never at his imposing full height, and in full view of his muscles that showed their existence by playing a game of oscillating hills and valleys as he worked a hand. It was reminiscent of his strength and majestic presence, like she would really expect him to be and the healthiest he had appeared since the battle. Her suspicion seemed foolish now and she had nothing to explain her current insolence of intruding with. “I..I just wanted to make sure you are well.”

The king gave her a curious look, “is there a security breech?” 

“No Sire,” Tauriel gave an ample and shy bow, not at all characteristic of her and attempted a flushed retreat, “I apologise for my mindless entrance thusly.”

“Tauriel,” he waved her over. He didn't seem angry, only somewhat confused and slightly entertained, “have you received my gifts?” The ruler asked pointedly, a slant of his eyebrows giving way to the suggestion that he associated her peculiar behaviour with his package. He clasped his hands together behind him, starting to walk, a familiar gesture that accentuated his build even more fabulously unclothed. 

“Oh, Aran nin, I am so sorry, I should thank you for those, though I have no idea how. It is most generous and gracious of you. How did you happen upon an oiolaire branch if I don't mind me asking,” she hoped to derail him and take his mind off her impudence. 

“I have one of those trees in my private gardens,” he disclosed serenely, his blue eyes glazing over somewhat in an otherworldly manner as he mused in a way that suggested the garden held many other secrets. “I shall let you see it after dinner. I'm still expecting your answer.”

“I can give you my answer now.” Tauriel kept her eyes averted from his chiselled chest, trying not to be too intrusive.

Thranduil put two fingers up to stop her. “We shall talk about it under the right circumstances. Lendis will let you know about the exact time. Dismissed,” he started towards his walk-in wardrobes. 

tbc


	13. Commissariat

Chapter 13: Commissariat

While Tauriel did not need to waste any time on her decision, her mind could not let go of thinking about Thranduil's strange behaviour. He had treated his innermost subordinates to meals before, especially if there were issues to discuss at length and there was the odd time he'd honour some exceptionally commendable deeds with material rewards, but given their ever shaky relationship, she deemed herself hardly a candidate for the preferential treatment. So Tauriel found it exceptionally surprising when on her arrival she was handed another note in Thranduil's handwriting that simply instructed her to follow the path. It confused her even more and she only understood what path after she closed the door behind herself and a line of petals became visible on the floor in the candlelight, mostly consisting of golden mallorn flowers with the occasional oiolaire in between that still overpowered the rest in scent and made the whole of the king's private rooms smell like her childhood home. Doing what she was ordered despite her apprehension, she followed the trail till it led her to the innermost chambers' terrace that overlooked the great forest. “My Lord?” She questioned timidly, slowly moving the curtains to get past. She had never had the privilege to be invited so far into his private rooms and she was weary of what she would find there. 

The next thing she knew was that Thranduil handed her a refined wineglass with the best Dorwinion fragrantly certifying its own fine vintage as she surveyed the scene before her, an open fireplace arranged at the edge of the terrace to shield them from the still cold spring and a small dining table illuminated by the flames in front of it, with the backdrop and the skies above not much different than as if they would have been having dinner in the woods themselves. Thranduil moved a few steps back to let her in. He was wearing the simplest looking cream coloured cloak and robes and yet up close it was clear they were made of velvet and lined with gold. They gave him a candent, mystical aura as if he was merely a ghost of the forest. And somewhere in the distance she could swear she could hear a harp playing 'May It Be' fluidly, a song of hope and promise. 

“I was told you like blossom honey cake and a thin mushroom stew,” he motioned towards the table, “I hope you are hungry.”

“I am if you are.” Whatever else was going on, Tauriel decided this was a good opportunity to compel Thranduil to take nourishment for once. 

“I will eat,” the king moved to sit into his chair and motioned her to do the same. “Allow me,” he raised the covering off the steaming potful of the mushroom stew and poured a large ladleful of the aromatic dish onto her plate. 

“My Lord!” She objected horrified at by being served by the king himself and attempted to take the utensil off the monarch. “Allow me,” she reciprocated the gesture by filling the other's plate this time, then sat back bashfully, looking everywhere else but her dinner partner. 

“What have you decided?” Thranduil asked conversationally as he indeed got to work with his fork on the dish.

“I was meaning to ask you if I could do both,” Tauriel stayed reserved and deferential. “Nothing could make me happier than being allowed to patrol the woods but I wouldn't want to abandon you right now when your health is frail. For now I would like to alternate the two roles if possible.”

“Hm,” Thranduil gave his assessment, “eat!”

“Of course my Lord,” Tauriel crammed a forkful quickly into her mouth, only for her senses to be assaulted by the aroma, taste and creamy texture of the masterpiece that someone depreciated enough to call a mere dinner. The overwhelming sensations brought on a sense of comfort that excited and relaxed her at the same time and she suddenly realised the ingredients were no ordinary mushrooms either. A mixture of pholiotina, teleltumbe and psilocybe, they would inevitably raise her mood and very soon. “Are these helping with the sadness?” Her question was genuine because however induced, she would also be in need of something to take her mind off losses. 

“Momentarily, yes,” he took a long sip of his wine.

“I'm glad for your appetite today,” Tauriel watched him enjoy his dinner that he washed down with the wine every two or three mouthfuls. 

“I can see the healer in you indeed remains,” Thranduil remarked, “and of course I see no reason why you shouldn't be able to divide your attentions between the two duties as you see fit,” Thranduil gave his blessing, “I am in fact glad you have decided so. Additionally, I was hoping you would honour another duty that befalls you as a loyal servant keen on righting some of your mistakes. As you might know from your reading, I am to look for a mate too and I chose you as my partner.”

Tauriel dropped her fork at once and pushed herself from the table a little while still remaining in her seat. “What?” She mumbled in disbelief, panting with the stupefaction. “I...I beg your indulgence, my Lord, I am not suited for the role,” she tried to reason her way out.

“Whether you're suitable or not is not for you to decide.”

“I don't understand.” Tauriel realised in panic that she would have to argue with him to wriggle out the situation. “Just months ago I was not good enough for the prince and now I am good enough for the king?”

“The situation changed for one, and this isn't the same as wedlock. I wish to choose someone who is already close to me and is aware of my state of affairs and the edict. I have no patience for starting over, or convince anyone of its validity. In addition, you are young and capable, and with formidable characteristics to pass on, no less your boldness and freshness in outlook, traits a possible future ruler might need. For the above reasons, you are perfect. The match would be advantageous also because I am aware of your situation as well and can give you allowances for having your heart buried with another. Consider that you will required to mate as everyone else and I would have to assume that you'd prefer a friend to a stranger?”

“Purely business then?” Tauriel tried to wrap her head around the new developments.

“My dear, I do care for you. I have been watching out for your well-being for a very long time,” he waved long fingers towards the last of the oiolaire flowers leading to the table and the delicacies atop, “this and more, could be yours. Whatever you wish, just name it.”

Tauriel pushed a bit further back, as if being able to survey the scene from farther gave her a better grasp. “You rarely jest, my Lord,” she blinked in confusion.

“I am not jesting now either,” he said calmly. “Do you think you can come round the idea?”

“I haven't...I haven't said goodbye, not properly..” She muttered.

“What is that?” Thranduil wanted to know what she was getting at.

“To Kili. I was never allowed to the funeral, or to his tomb. I feel like..I feel like I need to say goodbye before I can take on anything of the kind you suggest if that is what you really want.”

“Did that rude dirt digger Dain refuse a benefactor of dwarves' rights to pay respects!” Thranduil shot, indignant even though he could hardly expect any different from the stunty drunkard. 

“Prejudice between species does often prevail,” Tauriel pointed out with no little allusion to her master's own behaviour. 

“There's prejudice and then there's discourtesy and primitiveness,” he devalued the race once more, “come my dear, we shall put together troops to advance to Erebor in the morning and demand justice,” he claimed, to Tauriel's horror. 

tbc


	14. Dominion

Chapter 14: Dominion

Tauriel gave her best attempt to deter Thranduil from his decision to ride out to confront the current king under the mountain on their reclaimed lands so soon after the battle. She had approached him on more than one occasion, braving his ill-famed moods as well as the disapproving eyes of her fellow guards when she addressed the king without being prompted or rode too close. The redhead expressed her worries over a confrontation with the dwarves and also let him know that even if they achieve what they came for, she might not be more open to his proposal right away, but Thranduil held on to the notion that the sooner she sees that grave, the sooner they could get on with the next step. Tauriel further appealed to the stubborn king warning him about his health, though it seemed that while he still needed her tonics and an evening rub to be able to relax enough to sleep, having something to do and focus on had a positive effect on his bodily symptoms, providing further proof that his ailment was strongly connected to his emotional state. The only thing she was able to convince him of was asking the king of Dale to join them on their way to Erebor given that Bard have had a positive and appeasing effect on him in the past as the voice of reason. 

The dragonslayer seemed somewhat taken aback by their appearance as he climbed down the roof he had been in the middle of patching up in Dale, new capital of the kingdom he founded with the men of the surrounding areas who forthwith accepted him as their protector. “My Lord, you are full of surprises,” he greeted his counterpart in welcome.

“As are you,” Thranduil insisted as he dismounted, showing willing to be at the same level with the hunter. “You have achieved amany in a short while,” he smiled appreciatively. “Are your neighbours giving you any bother?” His serious eyes drifted towards the Lonely Mountain for a moment. 

“We have managed to reach an agreement. King Dain does not mind us standing a first line of defence against any kind of invader in return for being left in peace.”

“If there was anyone who could attain a treaty with that slimy tunnel rat, it is you. Which is why I appeal to your expertise for a pursuance tomorrow.”

“Come, my Lord,” Bard indicated a nearby dwelling looking more in shape than the others, “I hope my modest abode will suffice for a private meeting.” 

Tauriel started after them but Thranduil came to a momentary halt, “just King Bard and I,” he arranged, commanding voice like thunder, but then mellowed it with a “thank you” and a nod, realising who he was talking to.

There was not much she could do against such a direct order, so decided to let her horse graze and look for a well for fresh water they could refill with. Children eyed them with curiosity now that they could survey the elves freely without the mortal threat they were under the last time. A young woman abandoned the chickens she had been feeding and kindly came over to help with pulling the bucket up, her young daughter following behind. The little girl curiously pulled at Tauriel's cape, its material being a lot finer, lighter and cleaner than any of their kind's garments. Tauriel smiled at the child, contemplating giving her one of her ribbons when Bard appeared charging towards her, “your King wants you!” He shouted over and did a one eighty back into the house he came from. 

Tauriel straightened up wearily. Hasn't she been sent away only moments ago. She followed the bowman wearily into the building only to be intercepted by the man right behind the door. “I thought it best not making a scene but Thranduil appears to be ill,” he supplied confidentially. “How does an elf get sick anyway.”

The elleth pushed behind him in haste to find her master bent over and holding his belly, having just vomited onto the wooden flooring. “Is there somewhere he can lie down?” Tauriel asked Bard while taking to supporting Thranduil by the arm. 

Bard promptly opened a door to the side of the larger room the two kings were supposed to be conversing in, “my elder daughter's room, she wouldn't mind. I will let her know not to disturb,” he offered, as well as a suggestive nod at her to see if she wanted his help on supporting Thranduil at the other side. 

Tauriel gave a small shake of the head, not sure of her king's possible reaction if Bard touched him. The room held not much clue to it belonging to someone who had recently become a princess in name, but it was comfortable looking enough with many fur covers and a lot of lamps that could be lit if necessary, with ashes still warm in the fireplace. Past the collection of nuts and herbs on the table, Tauriel manoeuvred Thranduil round and grabbed a couple of books out the way so he could lie down atop of the blankets on the bed, notwithstanding his long legs hanging off a bit at the end, then sat beside him to tend to him. “He will be better soon,” she assured their host. She placed a hand on Thranduil's belly, mentally already starting her spell for the ameliorating of his discomfort through the garments for now as she did not want to undress the king in front of strangers. 

“I will be alright,” Thranduil echoed, giving Bard a pointed look, “thank you for your discretion.”

“Is there anything else I can help with?” The good man extended further kindness.

“To ride with me to Erebor tomorrow as discussed,” the ellon persevered.

“Are you sure you don't need more rest?” Bard challenged. “I did not want to take the first fully rebuilt house but the people insisted it's what they wanted for their leader,” he excused his behaviour, still not really used to calling himself a king or the treatment such title triggered. “But that means it is at your disposal and the closest we have suitable for the cause.”

“It will do well for Tauriel and I,” Thranduil assured, reigning in his irritation over being questioned as Bard did not deserve the cold shoulder. “The rest of my company can be stationed outside, thank you King Bard. I assume I can rely on your discretion further.”

“Of course, my Lord. However, you must consider that the dwarves will not react the same shall you fall unwell in their presence.”

“That should not concern you,” the Elvenking asserted. Bard only nodded while retreating, accepting the state of play as his counterpart promised.

“I assume you wouldn't want similar warnings from me, not to mention reproach for not minding your health,” Tauriel used the privacy to immediately undo his belt and slide a hand under his shirt. 

Thranduil gave her a dissuasive look, but it was mild, “you worry too much for me dear, and as sweet as your worries are, I am not used to it.” Then he closed his already heavy lidded eyes instead to enjoy her ministrations.

Tbc


	15. Oral Presentation

Chapter 15: Oral Presentation

Thranduil didn't realise he'd drifted off to sleep, not till he noted that the sun was now deep down on the horizon, barely illuminating the smallish room and making Tauriel's form sitting by the window nothing but a silhouette. It was strangely quiet, making him reason that Bard must've ordered his men to seize hammering work on surrounding buildings so that the Elvenking could enjoy the best of their hospitality. Thranduil was grateful for that, as well as for the magical touch that he had at hand in the form of the red haired and turbulent spirited elleth he thankfully did not have to fight anymore. 

Regarding her appreciatively he realised that she was strangely still and muted as well, a silence that went beyond duty and consideration, sadness emanating off her entire being. A glance to the window gave him the outlook on the perfectly enough cause for her state, as the pane of glass showcased the ominous heights of Ravenhill itself and Thranduil had to wonder if he had made a good decision bringing her here. He did not have to see her face to know she was crying. Overtaken by sympathy the same as he had been when he saw her weeping over the body of her love, he sat up fluidly and scooted over to the end of the bed to her side, then embraced her on instinct from the back, and unrestrained by the threat of anybody happening upon them in the privacy of Bard's house, he squeezed her against him as if that would protect her from heartache, placing his chin on her shoulder. 

The elleth stiffened, stunned and weirded out, “no, no, not now my Lord, please,” misunderstanding his intentions she pulled herself from his embrace and faced him, defensive.

Thranduil let her, silently cursing himself for the bold move. It was not the kind of behaviour anyone would expect from him so he could not blame her for being weary. “Tauriel. I do not mean to bemire your lover's memory.” He felt restless and uneasy, compelled to comfort her, but as it happened it had to be on her own terms. 

“He was not my lover!” She defended herself, horrified. 

“Either way,” Thranduil sighed, inwardly gladdened those two did not have sexual relations, “I am truly very sorry for your loss.”

Tauriel's otherwise shy gaze turned to inquisitive as she looked into his eyes glinting gold in the last of the sun's rays. His face told him of his all-out sincerity and she had to realise that in her heart of hearts she already knew that. “le fael, hir nin.”

“It pains me to see you so sad.” He admitted bitterly in earnest.

“It pains you to see any of us elves sad, that is clear to me Aran nin,” Tauriel acknowledged to herself the amount of weight he must've been carrying around every moment of his kinghood. “Tell me my Lord, would you have forgiven me if Kili lived and I wedded him?”

Thranduil made a noise that usually for-heralded his displeasure coming on at the mention of the topic, but thought better of the behaviour under the circumstances. “In time, for certain,” he mused over the depth his rage would have reached, would Tauriel have stayed with that prince. Though he wasn't sure himself how much of that would have been because of the bad blood between the two races and a certain jealousy that stirred in his chest uncomfortably and without much explanation. Whether as a mate or guard or simple subject, he felt like Tauriel belonged to him. 

“How much time?” The elleth couldn't believe herself when she found there was some amount of teasing in her voice. Was she in fact teasing the Elvenking himself?

The blond elf smiled at that. “A lot of time,” he admitted. He then put a hand on her arm. A gesture a lot less intimate than what he had going earlier, though no less candid in intention. “I wish I could make my subjects happy. Joining with a dwarf would have meant that sooner or later you would inevitably find yourself in this same situation seeing as they are mortal. To remedy that, you would have always been welcome back into the fold.”

“You mean you have thought about this? My standing if I had stayed with Kili?”

“In every shape and form,” the blond confirmed without a moment's hesitation, underlining it with a tiny gesture of his head tilting in affirmation. “As much as it may seem to some that my decisions are heated, I can assure you I am not rash in my actions. All choices are considered from every angle to the benefit of our people.”

“I can see that now,” Tauriel admitted and encouraged by her own admission establishing a kind of bridge between them she continued, “my Lord, I do not need to see Kili's resting place to find peace. I beg you, I do not wish to accentuate conflict between nations where there doesn't need to be one.”

“Are you saying that you would be ready to give yourself over to me without that?” His chest squeezed with hope. 

“I will, my King,” the young elleth psyched herself up for the endeavour. There was no need for Thranduil to put himself at risk or chance a war. “As soon as we're back in our Halls if you wish,” she planned to deter him from these parts of the realm.

Thranduil leaned forward and raised his ringed fingers slowly to her cheek as if only brush hair back from her face, but then reverentially traced the line her tears made, “let me console you as we rest tonight,” cradling the side of her face, he kept her eyes directed at him, overriding tradition where a subordinate customarily would not hold the king's gaze. The genuine care and warmth in those orbs and his small, sympathetic smile startled her once more. Where did those come from, could have they always existed under his controlled facade? It rattled her how she could ever doubt his goodwill. Giving him a small nod as he neared, she let him pull her to himself this time, put his arms around her and lightly stroke her hair, “it's alright Tauriel, just cry.”

The comfort was her undoing. For one moment she wondered if it was him who used some sort of magic to suddenly release all her restraints and reservations, and abandon all her carefully built walls and defence mechanisms that kept her being able to hold it together and feel as little as possible under the circumstances. Ultimately though it did not matter because once the flood of overwhelming emotions reeled in there was nothing else that mattered but her drowning grief and the anchor that held onto her and kept her from drowning with it all. 

Tbc

Glossary:

hir – lord  
le fael – thank you


	16. Allot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously with Tauriel in there, this fic is more movie based than book and I'd like to refer to the film's theatrical version where we never find out what happened to the Arkenstone after it being shown to Thorin by Bard and Thranduil. So please disregard the deleted scene where it is (somehow mysteriously given to and) buried with Thorin.

Chapter 16: Allot

Bard greeted the dwarven guards at the entrance to the caves of the Lonely Mountain inwardly rather wearily. He was quite familiar with most of them, having visited the newfangled residence of the King under the Mountain on official business on a number of occasions over the last few months. He had been treated with reasonable regard as well by all parties thanks to his status as everyone's famed dragonslayer, but the looks he got this time in the company of none other than the Elvenking were far from hospitable. Their reception in the cold waiting chamber was even chillier and Bard contemplated whether they were left there for an eternity with nothing to do for him but listening to Thranduil's tapping of his fingers in impatience on a pillar, occasionally accompanied by annoyed tutting or a frothing grunt. Finally, it was a multitude of armed warriors who escorted them down into the belly of the mountain rich in gold ore to the deep throne Hall amongst walls with layers of the precious metal running like rivers through the rock. It was not entirely shipshape or uncluttered in there, but very much reminiscent of Thror's once residence Thranduil acutely remembered as the starting place of the ill will between their peoples. 

“Well, what do ye know! The traitorous pretty faerie from the woods?” Dain II Ironfoot addressed them from the comfort of his throne, casually cradling his favourite staff as if it would have been some sort of child. “What d'ye have tae say fe yerself!”

“Let me remind you friend Dain that we have all fought on the same side against the orcs not very long ago,” Bard felt compelled to point out, hoping to defuse the impossible situation he got himself into in the assistance of the Elvenking. He would have of course done it for less, but as it stood the elvenkind supplied him and his people with essential foodstuff and shelter during the winter months after losing their whole town to dragonfire. 

“Bard.” Dain acknowledged the dragonslayer, then turned his attention back to the elf. “Did ye come fe more blood pixie, have ye?” The dwarf was intrigued, scanning them with eagerness. “And did bring no more than two guards with ye? How foolish,” he teased. 

“It is a proposition we have,” Bard stepped in again, not trusting his visiting counterpart to come away with something that wasn't insulting if the muttering under his breath was anything to go by.

“Do ye rattling opine ye have something valuable tae offer fe the King of all the dragon's treasure?” He made a vague gesture behind him where a fair amount of treasure lay haphazardly without much reason to be there other than being ogled at. 

“Not all the dragon's treasure,” Thranduil pointed out, tilting his head, “it may be that you're missing one of your greatest jewels.”

Dain leaned forward, fixing them with narrow eyes and a grin, “the Arkenstone! Aye, my cousin's lot had told me ye had that stolen from under their eyes!”

“With all due respect Dain, I can testify that the item came into our possession by chance and not due to any fault of ours.”

“Either way, ye cannae barter with it. Fe it be a family heirloom and it belongs tae the King under the Mountain. I would have me guards search ye fe it but I don't quite judge ye as daft as tae bring it?”

“Your assumption is correct,” Thranduil allowed with more courtesy than Bard thought him capable of under the circumstances. “However, I can arrange for it to be brought. All I ask for is a simple trade, your family heirloom for mine's.”

Dain shook his head in disapproval, “that pretty spacious noggin of yours in demented, perhaps yer age,” the dwarf held, “to be so obsessed with a handful of white gems.”

“While they look like pure starlight, I admit their value is mostly sentimental,” Thranduil surprised Bard again with his honesty towards the antagonistic creature on the throne, “they belonged to my late wife, and there's barely anything else left of her to remember by.”

“Is that so?” Dain was also surprised by the vulnerability the Elvenking volunteered to showcase. It didn't really fit with the description he had in mind of the monarch and his kind. “Well, perhaps I may be showing some curiosity if there were some added benefits?”

“Memory can be precious and pure,” Thranduil continued to play along bar for a little frown of frustration on his forehead over having to explain himself. 

“Eh, I need tae locate that necklace tae start with because believe me, we did not care fe its whereabouts or existence enough tae dig it out from the mountain of treasure. And tell me, how do ye intend tae give me what belongs tae me?” Dain stood and made a couple of steps down from his throne pulpit, interested, but still towering over them from higher ground. He also straightened, perhaps unconsciously wanting to appear taller, a futile feat. 

“One of my guards will come to place it down on your kin's chest where it belongs shall I give the order.” Thranduil's voice was a little above a whisper, making apparent the fight he had with himself over lowering himself to barter with the stunted species. 

Dain's eyebrows lifted as he stared. “Ye looking fe entry tae the burial chambers!” As much as he was scandalised, he did not understand the point and curiosity did not let him outright refuse. “What would ye want with me cousin, he won't spring tae life fe that girly face if it's revenge yer aft!”

“Not your cousin, his nephew, and not for me,” Thranduil decided to ignore the revilement once more, only his eyes narrowed. “There is a young she-elf I'd like to see content, the guard of mine who took it upon herself to be a saviour of dwarves. Have you heard of her?”

“Tauriel.” Bard tried to help out with the name.

“Meh a supposed love story between an elven lassie and a dwarf? Who believes such hokum?”

“As little as that is likely, yes. Tauriel will honour the treasured memory of her beloved by bestowing the Arkenstone upon him, with my blessing.”

“King Dain, there's a lot of logic to the proposition,” Bard put in his penny's worth a little weary, trying to defuse the staring contest those two had on, “equally favourable to both of you.”

“Elvenking, ye make not even a wee little sense, but then again ye people major on falderol, meaningless beliefs and the illusion of grand gestures, don't ye,” Dain scratched his head at the presentation of it all and seemed to be hard at thought. “Tell ye what. Ye send yer two guards back with the order fe Tauriel tae come and ye enjoy my hospitality here at the Halls an' join me fe something tae eat while I give the order tae locate yer necklace, how is that? You will be getting a welcome ye have never seen,” the dwarf sounded playful. 

“Thank you for your valued offer, I will be honoured,” Bard nodded his acknowledgement, hoping his companion will follow suit.

Thranduil had no illusions that unless he did as he was asked, both his coveted jewels he's lost so many elven lives for and Tauriel's chance to say her good byes to Kili were lost, and perhaps his chances for a child too. Having two guards with him or none inside the vast dwarves caves and passageways made absolutely no difference. He knew the redhead will not fear the endeavour but welcome it and the Arkenstone was hidden under an enchantment and would not be able to be released unless all conditions were favourable, it is how the spell was formulated, even himself could not change the way its magic worked now. He cast Bard one final glance to assure himself this was the right decision, then gave a small nod as his agreement, “I shall look forward to re-establishing possible relations,” he stated composedly.

tbc


	17. Pabulum

Chapter 17: Pabulum

Finding his fitted breeches tight and uncomfortable, Thranduil gave into his predilection to groan. Nobody would hear it anyway, not over the drunken singing of song number two dozen (one hundred) honouring the Misty Mountains, Durin's Folk, the Lonely Mountain, Durin and surprise surprise, the skills of dwarves working under the mountains. He was sitting cramped into truly enough, the largest chair that was available in the stronghold, and given that he had been there for several hours now, it was getting very uncomfortable and he genuinely had to resist an uncharacteristical urge to squirm and remain appearing imperial and unaffected. He also felt the impulse to put himself into a trance and bury himself in deep thought to be able to ignore his surroundings more, but he was occasionally expected to react in at least some way at the rest of the so called entertainment, comprising of a rather loud weight lifting display, the unthinkable roasting of a deer, an axe throwing competition, as well as a duck egg eating and beer drinking contest, latter which Thranduil was sure he would have had no trouble winning, show them how it's done, but he only contemplated joining for one fleeting moment before the churning of his stomach at the sight and smell of the many greasy animal based foodstuffs on the table reminded him that it wasn't the best time to rely on his elven digestion. 

“Are you alright?” Bard leaned close, not wanting anyone else to hear his words, “you look a little paler than usual.”

“Is it noticeable?” Thranduil mimicked the movement. 

“Not to dwarves I don't think. They would have commented on it.” The human picked off a drumstick off his counterpart's plate at any case, helping him out with emptying his plate while no one was looking, not for the first time on the day. “I wish I could take some of these home to my people.” Thranduil frowned. Bard was right about him not feeling well and for that reason, he could not let any of his control slipping, not under any circumstances. The uncomfortable feeling in his belly made him want to cradle it, rub at it a little himself in Tauriel's absence, but for the sake of appearances, it wasn't an option at the moment. 

“And so trade.” Dain raised his voice from the other side of the table in their direction. “If today goes as agreed, will the elves be willing to trade.” It didn't sound like a question, more like an accusation, as if he would've expected the answer to be a 'no'.

“It is a possibility,” Thranduil allowed. Not that he would ever trust them with jewels again. “I believe trade has never stopped between our nations. Small groups of citizenry, especially at the edge of the forest have always remained open to the notion and had occasionally actually practised it for real.”

Dain shrugged a “meh. Riff-raff, who cares about those. What I want to know is whether the grand Elvenking allows it,” he could not filter all sarcasm out of his voice or more likely did not want to.

“If it is good for the people, it is good for the king,” the blond gave a non-committal answer. Here he was, still mocked by dwarves despite offering them half his arm. He had to remind himself who it was for he had volunteered for this and why and then just clenched his fists, working for the anger to pass. 

“Dessert.” Dain stated simply, giving a toss to one of the large stands for pumpkin cakes that have just been brought in, making it slide close to Thranduil, “that one's yours.”

The elf nodded, showing due appreciation he did not feel. The Khazad's gesture was probably the best indication of goodwill Dain was capable of and as thus, it would have to do. It was not like he did not remember how difficult had been to deal with the dwarf's ancestors even when they had been close allies. The pumpkin cake looked ominous to him however. While it was only large by dwarven standards and it was similar to what was served in his own Halls, Thranduil knew the dwarves used an ingredient for their equivalent of the cake that made the dish not suited for a largely vegetarian race like the elves. The eating of animals was not forbidden, but he knew very little amount of his kind who would choose to do so. Thusly he reached for the stand and let half the cake slide over onto his plate, atop the oily remains of his previous meal. These dwarves did not believe in changing plates between meals. He just had to hope Bard liked pumpkins enough to help him out this time too. 

Spoonful after spoonful, he shoved the substance into his mouth and swallowed without tasting it. His stomach had become uncomfortably full several dishes ago, elves had no need for so much indulgence. Thranduil liked his food skillfully prepared, it was quality and not quantity that always counted for their race. Perhaps the pumpkin cake wasn't a culinary disaster and he might have enjoyed it under different circumstances, without the dull ache already pressing at his insides. He had to let out a sigh of relief for more than one reason when Tauriel finally appeared, flunked by four of her subordinates. 

“Ah, the wonder of the eldar,” Dain beckoned the elleth to stand in front of him, “what is this I hear, what was the plan, did ye intend tae make a dwarven princess out of yerself, rule the kingdom and steal away its riches?”

“King Dain,” Tauriel found it in herself to greet the dwarf respectfully with a nod, however bewildered she was by an assumption that never crossed her mind, not while she was with Kili nor after, “what I wanted was merely being allowed to love freely,” the redhead shared, rather taken aback. 

“How did ye like the tombs then?” Dain dismissed her answer as evasive. 

“I thank you for your graciousness in the matter,” the elleth remembered to show gratitude. 

“Come then, eat with us kings,” the dwarf pointed at the especial table of the three, surrounded by half a dozen other tables for the rest of the court. “Seeing as how you enjoy the kissing of royalty,” he teased. 

Thranduil's eyes widened somewhat at the offer, more eating he could not take. The dull ache in his insides had turned to more than just a little uncomfortable. “Did the exchange take place?” He turned to business. 

Tauriel nodded, “yes my Lord. We have given over the Arkenstone for the gems of Lasgalen. Would you like to see them.”

“No. I will take your word on that.” Thranduil was firm in his tone. And he will appreciate the triumph later. The Elvenking stood swiftly, regretting it immediately with the million twinges that assaulted his belly at the move, but he appeared less graceful than usual more because of those damn arms of the small chair that restricted his movement. He was glad to leave that particular torture device behind these folk here called a seat. Horrified, he noted that his garments didn't flow as seamlessly as they should have either and the reason for that was his somewhat swollen belly. Thranduil was quite sure that had never happened before. “True to your word, dwarf, I'm impressed. King Bard, shall we?” He said pointedly and stuck his chin out, not wanting to spend one more moment than necessary in this particular underground hole. 

The man from Dale rose hastily himself, understanding the reasons for the hurry, “excuse us Your Highness,” he addressed their host.

“Whatever.” Dain gestured airily, “I assume ye will come back when ye want something else,” he dismissed them disapprovingly. It's not like he wanted to be in elven company. 

Despite his churning stomach, Thranduil maintained his dignity by making his steps slow as he pridefully led their little group towards the passageways out the hall, not giving in to the need to hunch and spare his abdominals from stretching. In some ways thankfully, his heavy stomach distracted him from being too annoyed with the race they were leaving behind, the walking upwards on steep inclines sending frequent stabs through his midsection that were close to taking his breath away and sent shivers through him. He remembered the way out, just as well, because every bit of his efforts had to be concentrated on keeping the way he felt under wraps, keep his stomach contents where they were for the time being and making it out from the labyrinth of hollows that was dug by the dwarves under the mountain. 

“I have horses right at the opening,” Tauriel assured, her breath so close he could feel it on his sensitive ears. Hovering so near, the explanation had to be that she must have been aware of his difficulties. He found that Bard was just as close by on his other side, nodding at him in encouragement. 

Thranduil had to suppress a whine wanting to break free, momentarily wondering how such an undignified sound could ever come close to being heard from him. Queasy and dizzy, he marched on wordlessly, not trusting what would come out his mouth if he opened it. He threw himself on the first available horse not caring who's and encouraged it to march on a moderate pace, this time not because it looked most elegant, but because he didn't know how much crude jostling his spasming stomach could take. His strong willpower kept him sitting straight and statuesque, but only till they reached the first ruins where he turned his horse behind the pile of stones where he was out of sight from any curious dwarves and doubled over with a groan in the saddle, both hands cradling his belly desperately. 

Tbc


	18. Guardianship

Chapter 18: Guardianship

“We need to get him off the horse before he falls off,” Bard hustled over.

“Injros,” Taurel waved over her most trusted subordinate and the three of them pulled Thranduil down, supporting his weight. “What the Eru had happened!” She looked him over frantically while they settled him down on the ground, on his side seeing how he insisted on curling up round his belly. His travelling circlet became loose and lost its correct place. 

“The amount of food we had to stuff ourselves with?” The human took a guess, “I do feel rather full myself.”

“Mudor, have your soldiers stand sentry,” Tauriel sent all their guards further back, more to give the king privacy than anything else, then turned back to the human. “How much food?” The redhead pressed.

“How many platefuls? I lost count.”

Tauriel shook her head disbelievingly, “elves only eat light meals. We have no need for more.” She reached for her king's abdomen, but her hand was pushed away by Thranduil, who only gave her a groan. That was hard to understand given how much he benefited from her rubs. 

“My meaning exactly,” Bard said pointedly. “You probably don't even know what happens if one of you does overindulge.”

“Hm,” Tauriel gave her assessment. Kind of true. “Couldn't he have refused?” The she-elf argued on. 

“He could have, but then that would've broken the impossible moment I would never thought would happen, a time of cease fire between the dwarves and elves.”

“My Lord, let me help you,” Tauriel leaned close, finding a writhing Thranduil hard to watch, but her hand was once more pushed out of the way. “Too much food put him in this state? That cannot be all!” She questioned the bowman.

“You tell me. I thought elves can be affected by very little.”

“I'm right here you know!” Thranduil knitted his brow, finding it in himself to be annoyed by the way he was treated, then with himself for his voice sounding small and his tone whiny. 

“Just let me put my hand on your belly. No pressing or rubbing, promise,” the redhead advised softly, caringly. Thranduil rode out the next wave of pain wondering about what childbirth felt like before pulling his hands out the way reluctantly and bracing himself for more pain. Tauriel almost snatched her hand back after the slightest touch, hardly believing how round and tight the king's belly felt. She was somewhat befuddled by the finding while reciting the cramp easing spell several times in a row. 

“It's not working,” Thranduil scowled. 

“I'm not sure we have any spells for overeating,” Tauriel shared, bewildered by the demand. 

“If that's all it is, then a good purging should do the trick,” Bard advised on mortal matters, “though we all know that's not all it is.”

“Still, I find that a good idea. My Lord, would you like me to induce it or shall I?” 

Thranduil's eyes widened horrified. “We will do no such thing.” He had to keep to shreds of his dignity. All this time, he was trying to keep his stomach contents where they were, not the opposite! 

“I'm sorry to have to point it out my King, but I see no other alternative. It's the quickest way to get us going.”

Thranduil took some little, careful breaths to strengthen himself, then pulled up in a sitting position, “I experienced some momentary weakness, but I can ride now. Help me up.”

Bard and Tauriel shared a furtive look. It was obvious that neither of them agreed, but they both took to complying. Thranduil couldn't help sucking the air in at the movement, then letting out a breathless pant when straightening up. “My Lord, it would be better if you regurgitated,” the elleth didn't give up just yet, knowing it was only sheer willpower and his powerful build that made Thranduil reign in the pain enough to look right.

“I will. In privacy, we're not far.” Thranduil winced when lifting himself up the mount again. He took a few strengthening breaths, then reassumed the lead of the group up the path into Dale. 

Tbc


	19. Percoidean

Chapter 19: Percoidean

Bard knocked on the slightly ajar door, letting Tauriel know he was standing there. “If you'd like a break, I could watch Thranduil for a moment or two, and my daughter would volunteer too.”

Tauriel cast a longing glance at the springing grass on the hillside before her gaze settled back on her sleeping master. “Thank you King Bard, but I don't think his Majesty would want to find but his very inner circle around himself right now. I shall stay.”

“Forgive me for the intrusion,” Bard kept his voice down to let the elf rest, “but we have some things to talk over. We've spent the night in the same house and I couldn't help overhearing him vomiting all night. Is there anything I can do to help? Collect some herbs, send a messenger to Mirkwood perhaps?”

The redhead indicated no. “We came prepared,” she sighed resignedly.

“So he has been unwell for a while,” the human concluded, “I don't mean to pry, it's just that it is so strange to me, I was thought the Eldar to be ethereal creatures. The only explanation I can find is that he is fading.”

“It's not irreversible,” Tauriel was quick to impart, the prospect being one of her profound wishes too, “we are hoping something will bring his joy for life back.” 

“Shall anyone aside us find out about the affliction, I fear the resulting power imbalance might produce a war. Why did he leave the country in that state?”

“King Thranduil does what King Thranduil wants to do,” the woodelf stated the facts, “do you think you can keep your people from guessing, spreading rumours?” 

“People's tongues I can't control, but the sooner he appears in public looking well, the least likely anyone will suspect anything.”

“I think he will need at least one more day before he will be able to get back into the saddle,” she looked at Thranduil, shaking her head. “He's been suffering greatly,” she frowned sympathetically, eyes stroking her king with outpouring goodwill. 

“In that case, let me offer further help. Your company is small and I would like to make sure you'll get to your destination safe and without further incident. As a king, I can ride ahead of the group with Thranduil, aid him if necessary. He might not be as sharp noting danger right now and you have those gems with you. The townsfolk will not miss me for just a few days and my eldest can take care of the younger children, she always has been.”

“You should do what you see fit, King Bard,” Tauriel avoided giving a straight answer. Taking the matter to Thranduil would have been inexpedient as the prideful king would've refused help so his healer thought best to let things develop on their own as they may. 

Both their attentions turned towards a sound, a breathy moan coming from a fretful Thranduil, clearly still uncomfortable even in his sleep. Tauriel made despairing eyes, finding it difficult to watch. “Besides some symptomatic relief, I can't do anything since it's not an illness per se.”

“You will think of something, you always do,” Bard heartened, “I will be just outside if you need me,” he nodded politely as farewell. 

Tauriel slid closer to Thranduil on the bed once more and placed a hand on his forehead. Having already tried everything in her arsenal with varying rates of success, she thought it most important now that her master should rest easier so she whispered a soothing spell, hoping it will make him sleep or rest more. The elleth kept at it till he quietened, small movements seizing, breaths evening. She momentarily mused whether she could keep him in a state similar to this, only deeper, stop him from deteriorating more. Mirkwood would still have its king..of course none of that was practical, apart from saving herself the heartache of watching another loved one die..loved one? Tauriel shook her head, wanting rid of the strange discovery. When did she become so attached to Thranduil? At a loss at how to fulfil Bard's expectations and make the Elvenking stay in the realm, she will have to settle for comforting him for the moment. Though it was as much for reassuring herself of his continuing presence as well as for the purpose of giving him warmth and comfort when she gave into her instincts and climbed to lie beside him, hand on his stomach, ready to soothe him at the slightest indication of discomfort. 

“Bard is right,” Thranduil suddenly spoke on a quiet, ethereal voice that gave the impression as if he was detached from his body and otherwise still asleep. It made Tauriel jump and pull away quickly, wondering if he'd heard and felt everything, but his long fingers closed around her wrist, “that feels good. Remain.”

“I'm not doing anything curative,” the elleth was a bit bewildered.

“Your hand on my stomach, it feels beneficial,” he pulled her back down as she had been before. He let let settle reluctantly, however self conscious, then repeated, “Bard is right. We have to get home as soon as possible and without raising suspicions. We don't want any adversary getting wind of my indisposition. The dragonslayer is very accommodating, but we shall ride tonight, in the veil of darkness.”

Tauriel's hand instinctively stroked his midsection as if she could provide comfort in advance, “will you manage?”

“I think the most important thing right now is that we get to the privacy of my rooms, consequences will be dealt with later,” the king announced. “I will leave the necklace with my guard and the two of us shall ride on the one horse, devoid of any pompousness and signs of station, dressed as common elves. I will be relying on your help, support and protection,” he looked to the side, into her eyes with a soft gaze trustfully.

“I am honoured, my Liege. All that I can provide, is yours,” Tauriel agreed reverentially. Her smile was encouraging but worry was rising even higher inside her as she started to mentally prepare herself for the task, detail in her mind what had to be done, what weapons she would take and where she would keep them. 

He had the shadow of one of his old, self-assured smiles on his face when he answered, “is that so. In that case, you will forgive me if I hold you to your pledge.” His arm tightened from being her, returning the caress with a gentle, non-intrusive stroke of her back. 

Tauriel blushed, “that we can talk about once you're safely in your own bed.”

“My bed, huh?” The seductive, low tone was unmissable. “That has never seemed so inviting of a prospect as it is now.” 

Tbc


	20. Deed

Chapter 20: Deed of Conveyance

Albeit without moving much, Thranduil stretched in the spacious bed, silky sheets barely presenting any resistance, pillow soft and smelling of lairelosse. It was utmost comfortable and he dug his body into it to be cocooned, comforted by the familiarity and luxuriousness. It was too cosy for him to let himself be bothered with small discomforts, like a dull ache in his belly he was bent on not letting surface into his awareness fully. His consciousness however had other ideas and as more and more of the outside world registered, he suddenly jumped to the realisation that he was no longer in the cramped bed Bard provided nor lying on the hard and dampish floor of the forest and then he was turned on like a flare and sat up jiggered, looking around himself wildly. He was in his very own room!

“Easy my King! You don't want to get nauseous again with that moving,” Tauriel leapt to sit down beside him, hand on his arm to encourage him to lie back down. 

“What happened!” Thranduil snapped, angry with himself for not knowing. 

“You fell unconscious towards dawn, in the saddle, without much warning, at least from my point of view. We were lucky however not to encounter any further threat. Forgive me, but I deemed it more strategic for your safety to hold on to you and bring you home as soon as possible rather than camp out in the forest and wait for nightfall again.”

“Who's seen me unwell?” 

“To my knowledge, nobody who didn't know of the state of your health already.”

Thanduil nodded and finally let himself being pushed down into his pillows. “You've done well, Tauriel.”

“Thank you my Lord. How are you feeling?”

“I feel alright?” The blond was surprised when rubbing a hand across his belly to test it. 

“You were out for four days, my Lord,” Tauriel admitted reluctantly. 

“Four days.” Thranduil repeated gravely, “so much for avoiding an impact on the rumour mill,” he was once again unhappy with himself.

“I don't deny, there was wide concern amongst those accustomed to see you roaming the Halls. You were given miruvor, a few drops every hour, and it seems that Beleg went on an adventure of his own in our absence and acquired one of Alatar's books with a spell that encourages the binding of fea and hroa. We performed it in fear you would not wake...” Tauriel provided wearily, not sure of his reaction.

“So that is why I feel so well,” Thranduil concluded. It didn't even occur to him what she was worried about, that he would contend their right to keep him away from Valinor. 

“The effects won't last if your conscious mind doesn't consent to the spell's suggestion.”

“There's a lot to live for, a lot to fight for. The Eldar should not die out, I told you, I want to be here to ensure that. Which reminds me, we should start exploring the sheets. Thank you for watching over me. Are you ready for the next step as you promised?”

“But aran nin, you have only just become well enough to awaken!”

“Which is why we will have to act swiftly. With the miruvor and in the main, the spell, I will probably be at my most energetic and fertile at this time. Don't be frightened so, I will make sure no harm will come to you. And not right now. You have till tonight to mentally prepare, until then, let Feren and Pelior know I am receiving them with their news and reports. You put on your festive clothes, I will send for you.”

Suddenly, Tauriel's mind pulled her in all directions, from startled to lament, from excitement to dread, anxiety to pride. It was a shaky nod that she gave him as she rose and conscientiously smoothed her clothes down now that there was a necessity for her to appear presentable. “Yes, My Lord.” Her words sounded reverent, worshipful, thankful for the honour, but she wouldn't dare to look him in the eyes anymore. Skin colour attempting to match of that of her hair's roots, she retreated, heart pummelling wildly. Things were going fast, too fast, certainly by elven standards. She was too shaken to notice through her internal struggles that Thranduil got out of bed and stood in front of her by the door, his long nightshirt covering his privates but not much more. “Is there something the matter?” He questioned her in earnest, “if there are any more obstacles in the way in your mind, I need to know as soon as possible so I can do something about them.”

“No, no, no, I have promised to fulfil my duties without question and I will.”

“Duties!” Thranduil sounded as if the word offended him. “I don't want you to bed me out of a sense of duty or because it's the right thing to do!”

“I'd like to make you happy more than anything. I'd like to live up to the trust you have in me and thank you for your forgiveness for my mistakes,” she added quickly to soothe his temper.

“I want you to bed me because you want to!” He made a dismissive, irritated gesture, and did not stand out her way to the door. “Tauriel. The intimacy we already share when you're treating me is beyond any I've experienced for centuries. Would it be so bad taking another step?” Thranduil cupped her jaw to make her look at him.

“No, no, my King, it's just that...” She swallowed, flustered.

“Just what?”

“You are a king.”

“It does not matter. Leave it up to me.” He encouraged. 

“Without appropriate involvement...”

“Tell me there's no love between us, can you?”

Tauriel half opened her mouth, contemplating. She could not say that. “I care for you and you care for me,” Thranduil eventually concluded based on her non-answer. “The rest you leave with me,” he underlined his intentions with a soft, coaxing, silky voice and a slow nod that asked for permission as he lowered his lips to hers. Not finding any resistance bar for the air freezing in her lungs with the surprise and anticipation, he kissed her domineering, telling of danger, promising more, yet soft and tender, giving her the chance to retreat at any time. She didn't. The glimpse of what could be was too intoxicating. Her hands slipped into his on their own accord.

Tbc


	21. Sacraments

Chapter 21: Sacraments

Tauriel felt awkward in her festive outfit. She could remember mere two times during her entire stay at the Elvenking's Halls where the garment came out the closet, once for a wedding of a close friend she had served with in the guard and the other time with the occasion of her closing ceremony at the Healing Halls where she had volunteered to complete a class on the art. More disquietingly, she did not know what to expect. Her life she was willing to lay down in the hands of her master, but the current prospects were entirely different than she was used to. Calming herself by acknowledging that it was to be expected that she would be quite nervous, Tauriel made her way back to the king's quarters, only to encounter Oenel and Mudor standing guard at the entranceway looking pointedly everywhere but at her. The door opened silently and they both bowed with a flourish as opposed to greeting her as they would a superior officer. Tauriel sucked the air in and blushed as there was no doubt those two at least suspected what she came for dressed like that. Further to her horror, Thranduil wasn't alone even though she had arrived at the time requested by him. 

Feren stood to the side by Thranduil's chair, looking over to where the king was swiftly scribbling something onto paper on his desk. “Excuse me, muin nin, I will just quickly finish this order and I shall join you in a moment. Until then, please help yourself to something to drink. The goblets are on the table in my bedroom.”

Tauriel complied in haste, getting out of sight, blushing further. That some guards would figure out what was going on would have been just about expected, but to be paraded around in front of the king's first lieutenant was a completely different deal. Of course if she would produce an heir, then everyone would obviously become aware of the relationship leading to it, but she'd never imagined it being out in the open before it even started and she wasn't sure how to feel about that mainly because the possibility never occurred to her. She was a warrior and her role in the bedroom had not been precisely defined. All she knew was that she could not be very good at being a mistress or child brooder, whatever, because she had no experience at either and she could not understand why the king would honour her with those roles, and so openly too. Because what if she failed? Engulfed in her worries, she mechanically raised one of the indicated goblets to her lips, taking a large gulp of what she expected to be soothing wine, knowing Thranduil. The redhead never felt more in need of the intoxicating liquid and she was intent on drinking a lot of it, make herself more amenable for the plan. She was already on her second gulp when she came to realise that her beverage was not alcohol at all, but a lot sweeter like honey that seemed to be there to mask another, more bitter tang that was still noticeable in the aftertaste. 

“It's an aphrodisiac,” Thranduil enlightened her seeing her puzzled expression as he approached, “mostly damiana, gokshura and ashwagandha.” His crown or royal necklace was nowhere to be seen and yet his presence was just as assertive.

“Oh.” She did learn about those when studying medicine, but it wasn't an issue she had encountered since. “Do I need it?” The question was innocent. She truly didn't know.

“Not necessarily, but drink, just in case,” the monarch produced a single white flower of alfirin from the folds of his robes, “please accept this blossom as a sign of my intentions,” he gave her a bow as if she was royalty and not the other way round. “May I?” He raised the flower, tilting it towards her. 

Tauriel could barely speak, his behaviour and the situation was all too confusing. “Alfirin?” She mumbled. There were no more romantic flowers in the whole of Middle-earth for they were immortal and represented eternity. “And you called me muin nin in front of Feren. What why?”

“Because you deserve a pledge. You need to know that I am not taking our union lightly. We might not be able to give each other comfort in afterlife, but till then, I am here for all you need, just as you have offered yourself to your king,” he stepped up to her, blew a kiss onto the flower and carefully attached the alfirin to her hair, fed through one of her plaits. 

“We need to bond to some extent for the coupling to be fruitful,” Tauriel interpreted. 

“Well, there's that if you decide to put it that way,” Thranduil rolled his eyes, “but my dear, I do think you need some more of that aphrodisiac if you do see it like that.”

“How should I see it then?” The captain saw it best to comply and down the contents of the goblet. 

“We will be making love,” he leaned in to whisper, up close and seductive, then cupped her jaw to kiss her, in a similar manner to how he'd done in the morning, only more lingering, teasing, then he pulled back, “of course it's up to you how you'd like to spend the evening,” he changed to his matter of fact voice, indicating the set table, “there's a light meal at our disposal with fruit and nuts, my tub ready with warm water and bath oils or we can simply talk and stargaze on the terrace.”

“What would you like to do?” Tauriel couldn't leave behind old habits of pleasing the king. 

“I'd like to pamper you,” Thranduil announced roguishly, laid-back, “are you hungry?”

“Not really, too nervous I guess.” 

“In that case,” the king took her by the hand and pulled her over closer to the table, where he picked up a single piece of honey soaked avocado with his long fingers and held the moist and slippery slice up to her lips. Tauriel opened her mouth obediently and the long, velvet finger food was slipped past her lips slowly and sensually, Thranduil finding her reaction amusing to the first bit of his pampering attempt. She was so stunned it rendered her pliant. 

He then pulled her with him, into the bathroom where the fire lit made the whole room cosy and bathed in the shadows of merrily crackling flames. “No time to waste, we don't want the water getting cold,” he poured a fragrant vial's contents into the large, angular tub in the corner, making the water fizz and bubble and steam invitingly. Without any more fuss, he unfastened his flowing, outer robe and let it fall onto the floor, “it might be imperial, but it's rather restraining of a wear,” Thranduil commented, “I can't get to you in that,” he teased.

Tauriel nodded her understanding a little surprised. Given the way he carried himself, everybody would've assumed he was most comfortable in the regal garments. For this not to be the case and him admitting to it bewildered her, but she didn't have much time to contemplate that either as he stepped up to her and kissed her again. He didn't only cover her lips with his this time however, but travelled dragging his lips to her jaw, and to the sensitive part under at her neck, then returned to her mouth to tease her lips with his tongue. Him barely touching made her ache for more and suddenly she found herself kissing back, tasting his lips, craving more. She could sense him smirking under her lips and then without any warning he grabbed the shoulder of her dress and ripped a space to reach the skin there. “I owe you a dress,” he promised before nipping, sucking, biting, tugging at the exposed part hungrily. 

The she-elf bit her own lips, overwhelmed by the sensation. He was careful not make it too uncomfortable and that margin between pain and pleasure made her gasp, wanting more and her hands wandered up to his silken, filmy shirt to feel his muscular body under her fingertips before she pulled them back self-consciously, not having been asked to touch. Thranduil pulled away only to grab her hands and slide one under his shirt and the other to the bulge in his breeches. Tauriel's eyes opened wide. While she had no experience, it was clear that the monster had awakened. The older elf ground himself to her, into her hand, towards her loins and moaned breathlessly. “It has been so long...” He swallowed and tried to reign himself in. He should not rush her. Straightening, he took time to shrug his boots off, distracting himself with the task.

Tauriel followed suit assuming it was what she was meant to do and found him staring at her when she was done. “You are beautiful, you are life,” he established, “let me serve you.” 

And to her horror, the king knelt before her, falling on both knees and holding on to her thighs, looking up at her. It soon became more clear to her what he had meant when the king of Mirkwood buried his face into her loins and slid his hands up under her dress. Tauriel was not ready for that and neither was she ready to be served by her king, so she slid down to kneel beside him and initiated a kiss for the first time instead. His response was breathless and soft, lingering and teasing and then he grabbed her under her bottoms and her back with his other hand and slid her over to lie atop of a shaggy, decorative rug in the middle of the space where he rid himself of his shirt and breeches quickly and continued his kisses, down her shoulder and for the most part exposed arm, knees and up her thighs again. Scooting closer and in between her legs, he sat up, exposing her to the sight of his naked, glistening, godlike, smooth body and rubbed at her folds, through the cloth of her dress at first, then slipping his fingers under. 

Tauriel was confused by the sensation, for it was wonderful and she didn't expect herself to be so flooded with need and wanting to devour him, her legs spreading wide open as if they had a mind of their own and how could she be so wet? Her hands found their way to his upper body again, exploring, rubbing, circling and there was an urge to own him, to have him close. Encouraged she was ready for the next move, Thranduil leaned down to gently and tantalizingly lick at her clit, his tongue going into the folds in a maddening manner. Tauriel could not take it anymore. “I want you inside me,” she was surprised by her own audacity, but Thrnaduil didn't mind. His eyes took on a dreamy expression and he moved to place his keen member against her vagina, pressing into her slowly, gradually, checking her reaction each time. 

The red-head moaned, somewhere the back of her mind additionally also appreciating the fact it was the king's and no other's penis that was inside her and her hips moved on their own accord, accommodating him, grinding against his hard rod cock. Both too keen, it was over before it really started and she felt herself full and gasping and yet still wanting more. He was of the same opinion. “The bath, melethril. Shall we try it in there?”

tbc

Glossary:  
muin nin – my dear  
melethril – lover


	22. Forum

Chapter 22: Forum

“Have you slept at all?” Tauriel frowned when opening her eyes in the morning she saw Thranduil staring at her to the extent of studying intently, half sitting up with the pillows propping his head up from behind. 

There was a hint of smile on his lips when he shook his head, “watching you sleep, that's relaxing enough.”

“But you do need to rest, you're still unwell,” her fingers edged towards his belly where they settled with a gentle stroke. 

“I have better ideas,” his eyes lit up with lust. 

“More ideas?” While not against it, Tauriel's head was still spinning from the many ways he had made love to her during the night and she had never been so aware of her loins' existence as she was now. They still thrummed dully from overuse, conversely urging her to grind herself against him for relief. “You don't have to show me everything at once.”

He leaned on an elbow to kiss her, persuasive, but lazy. “Whatever you wish.”

“Are you still at the pampering and serving me stage?” Tauriel was wide eyed.

“Yes, melethril. I want you to understand, that laid bare, in bed, we are always equal. Then we can move on to pleasuring me. Not that you didn't give me plenty of pleasure already.”

“If it's still what I want, then I want to make sure you're alright,” the she-elf climbed out of bed shyly pulling the covers with her and handed him one of her pillows when she realised she was leaving him exposed. 

He didn't bother with it, but lay with his legs at relaxed angles as he had been, not minding his manhood in plain sight. Tauriel's eyes were drawn to it, but she reigned herself in and looked away. It was a beautiful sight to behold, long, smooth and perfect like the rest of his body, but she had chores she had given herself. The elleth went over to the chest of drawers where she kept his medicines and potions and mixed him a concoction of pain relief and tonics that he drank obediently enough, not giving it much thought for being too busy watching her move and settle to sit on the edge of the bed beside him once her first task was done. It really did start out as she had intended, a mundane abdominal massage, but there were so many factors derailing her, the dreamy expression on his face, the whitely shining penis not far from her hands and the soft trail of hair that led to it from under his bellybutton. If her hands were going to stray, she decided she would consciously make them wander upwards instead, but his chiselled chest did nothing to ease her desire to continue their lovemaking. And when his manhood visibly twitched and rose to attention, she could not hold back anymore and took the engorged appendage into her palms, squeezing and marvelling at the wonder.

His moan and squirm had obviously nothing to do with pain. “Easy there, hiril nin, if you don't want to incite me to thrust you back in that bed.”

The address thrown her. Her hands freezing round his penis, still holding onto it tight, she raised her eyes at him, away from the mesmerising gift she was blessed with all night, “how am I your Lady? Why am I treated with such honour and care?” She was truly confused. 

“Because, muin nin, you are the blessed mother of my child.”

“Future. Maybe? If we do everything right and nature deems the union genuine enough for conception.”

Thranduil indicated a quick no with an amused expression, his blue eyes shining brightly with life, more than she had even seen them. “You know so little about the nature of elven union,” he laughed, “I sometimes forget you're so young and a virgin not long ago,” he winked at her.

Tauriel was thrown again, by his laugh, his fervour and by the comment. She bit the inside of her lips self-consciously. “Maybe I could please you if you let me try!”

“It's not about that. You have already pleased me without doing much, I am sure what you offer will be just splendid. Out union was perfect Tauriel, and as such, complete. I know you are not versed on what different sensations during intimacy mean, but I can assure you, with our last lovemaking, in the bed, our love for each other was enough, our feas combined and you have fallen pregnant. No healer would be able to tell you for at least another week, but I have felt it. Estelio enni, trust your ancient lover.” It was his turn to put a hand on her stomach, sitting up reverently, “thank you, meleth nin, you have served me well, and perhaps saved the whole nation with the initiative.”

“Are you sure, my Lord?” Her shaky voice wasn't much stronger than a whisper. It was all too much, happening so fast. 

“First of all, you call me Thranduil or meleth, and not just in private. You are now Mirkwood's most valuable creature, and yes, I still serve you. What would you like, mell nin?”

“I would like everything to be well,” she frowned, overcome with fearfulness and uncertainty as put it like that, with the fate of Mirkwood resting on her shoulders, it sounded very momentous. 

“It will be,” he heartened, with the fitting self-assurance of a king that made his words weigh and mean more, then put an arm around her to pull her down against himself, “lie with me, Tauriel, take your time till you get used to the idea. I am with you.”

tbc


	23. Declination

Chapter 23: Declination

Tauriel leaned back in the lavishly decorated chair, chewing lightly on the feathery part of her pen absently as she pondered over the best way to respond to Legolas' latest letter. Feeling an awkward sense of betrayal even though she had never promised anything to the prince, she wanted to make sure from day one that Legolas was aware of what had been going on with her and Thranduil and thus she ended up with a fury flurry of letters from the confused heir to the throne, questioning her on all affairs of the kingdom, the new world under the surprising Edict, as well as the king's health and state of mind, and lately, expressing worry over her welfare. Tauriel had to conclude that the usually quite level-headed prince was just as thrown by the developments as everyone else, if not more, but true to his character, once Legolas had gotten over the shock of it, he remained supportive and eleemosynary. 

Getting a strike of inspiration regarding the manner she would describe her current position in court in view of the new turn of events, Tauriel moved forward, momentarily forgetting that her very pregnant, huge belly would be in the way in comfortably getting to Thranduil's desk she was using. Very close to her due date, she had been confined to the king's quarters where she had been living for the last months, pampered by royalty and servants alike, probably representing the nation's salvation in their minds, just like Thranduil had predicted. She will be glad when this is all over and she could go back to her guard duties where she most belonged, instead of the king himself insisting on taking some of her turns on forest patrols. Of course it wasn't unusual for Thranduil to want to keep his skills from rusting and taking the occasional escapade, but since he never completely regained his health, it worried Tauriel and didn't he know that nerves weren't good for her in her condition! By the way, wasn't he supposed to be back by now? The redhead listened out for noises and was almost comforted by the sound of approaching footsteps when she had to realise that Thranduil was being carried in, unconscious. 

“What happened!” Tauriel jumped, disregarding the nuisance of her pregnant belly and flitted to the bed where the king was being placed, looking for signs of blood or injury. “Have you been attacked?”

“No, my Lady,” Feren addressed her on that weird way like he had been ever since Thranduil had started calling her that, “we were almost back at the Halls when he had fainted. Elvellon has already seen to him and assured us the matter is no different than before. The King will simply need rest.”

“Has he fallen off the horse?” Tauriel eyed the slightly muddy cloak. 

Feren winced almost visibly at that. “My apologies, my Lady, we should have kept a better eye on His Majesty.”

“He's good at hiding it when he's sick,” the elleth allowed, more weirded out by the respectful way the First Lieutenant related to her, than anything else. “It will all be well, I will keep vigil.”

“You are not supposed to do magic in your condition!” Galion pushed forward, back in service for several months now after his wedding. 

“Don't you have your own very pregnant spouse to keep under survelliance!” Tauriel ushered everyone out. “Elvellon had said it, what the king needs is rest and I will not be using any healing spells!” 

“If you need me, I will be just outside,” the manservant relented, in fact very aware of pregnant lady outbursts and their consequences. It was best complying or else. 

Tauriel sighed displeased and climbed onto the bed to sit by Thranduil with some difficulty in finding the right balance to the current centre of her gravity. Not heeding any of her promises not to use magic to do with healing or otherwise, she smoothed her lover's hair away from his forehead and placed her palm on his brow, concentrating to be able to sense his state of health. Elvellon was right of course, this was nothing more than a flare up of his stomach problems. Tauriel however was not having it. Sliding her hand to his cheek not affected by dragon fire, she muttered a spell to strengthen him and ultimately wake him, not even occurring to her that she might need that strength later in the possible occurrence of labour taking place that day. But this was important.

The first sign of Thranduil coming to awareness was his breathing changing as his previously shallow but silent breaths turned to shaky, intermittent moans, with his hand sneaking round his abdomen. But offering him a pain relief vial did not even cross her mind. Instead, she slapped him hard on the cheek, “how dare you!”

Thranduil blinked himself cognizant at once, and pushed up a little on his pillows, staring at her and the surroundings wildly. “Tauriel?” He questioned everything confused. 

Tauriel response was another slap, followed by her battering his chest with the underside of her fists in a very maidenly manner, hindered by the child to attack him properly. “How dare you!”

“How dare I what!” Thranduil captured her hands in his, effectively stopping the assault, “what is the matter?” The king was so flabbergasted he didn't even think of the offense. 

“What is the matter? Do you really need to ask that!” Tauriel pulled away and buried her face into her hands. She didn't intend to be so overtaken by the outburst, and was embarrassed by the force of it, but she did believe in the reasons for it. 

Thranduil was hesitant in reacting, stuck between being scandalised by being attacked by her again and wanting to comfort her, but most of all he did not understand. Tauriel stood up at her full height, moving back a couple of steps, “look at me. I am here, I have moved in with you. Every thought I have, every action I take is for your benefit. I am riddled with worries over you not prevailing. I am standing here on the brink of giving birth to your cherished child and what do you do? You still think of fading!”

“I do not intend to do so!” 

“Then what do you explain what happened today with! Can you honestly tell me that you are fully well and your stomach doesn't hurt!”

With a frazzled frown, Thranduil self-consciously removed his hand that held his belly, but that was as far as he could go. Taken aback, he could only stare for a moment. She was rather beautiful with her cheeks coloured with anger, she always had been, but that was beside the point right now. “I can't tell you that, but I can tell you that I want to be here for you and the elfling and that I will be!”

“Then prove it! Be well!” 

“You be reasonable, Tauriel, it doesn't work like that! I don't have control over that innermost, unconscious part of me that wanted to depart, it won't respond to me reasoning with it! Don't you think I've tried. You must be stressed with the imminent birth and that's completely understandable, and I want you to know that I will support you in every way.”

The expectant mother shook her head with some vehemence. “No, Thranduil. This is not pregnancy anxiety speaking. I've had enough. This is me telling you that unless you show up with a perfect bill of health and prove with utmost certainty that you want to belong with us in Mirkwood, I will be in my own quarters!” She marched out, doing her best to disregard how dizzy she was feeling herself, and not minding that he was too weakened at the moment to run after her and she surely wouldn't heed his orders. If she was his 'Lady', then he'd have to deal with it appropriately. 

Tbc


	24. Experimental

Chapter 24: Experimental

“Come in!” Tauriel responded to the solid knock on her door. Willingly-nillingly she did have to accept after all that there would be a steady flow of servants and healers, wellwishers and helpers showing up to make sure that her and the newly born prince were well provided and cared for, even though she was quite sure that despite her inexperience, she could care for one little elfling herself swell enough. 

This time however she almost dropped the infant in her surprise before placing the child in his crib and flying gratefully into her visitor's arms, “Legolas!” Tauriel buried her face in her friend's shoulder, relieved to see a long-familiar face in her rattled and overly emotional state, due to the many changes in her life over the last year and probably those hormones no less after all. “What are you doing here!” She pulled back to take in his expression. 

“I came to see if you are well. How could I not. And I was needed here.” He held her by the shoulders at arm's length to take a good look at her, “I can't decide if you look tired or flustered.”

“Both My Lord Legolas,” Tauriel smiled shyly and turned towards the baby's bed, “it is what happens to new mothers, or so I'm told, nothing different there.”

Legolas quietly followed her to the crib, where she was looking at her creation lovingly. “So this is my brother,” he commented matter-of-factly, “at least he has one parent who will show him love,” he held sarcastically, sadly and sat on the bed to take a better look at the elfling flapping his arms with excitement, trying out how it felt, “what is his name?”

“Airaoron,” the mother announced proudly. 

“Sounds quite...royal. Did he even discuss naming the child with you?” 

“Me and your father have not spoken much over the last few weeks,” Tauriel admitted. 

“Why doesn't that surprise me?” Legolas sounded very displeased, “he can't treat you like this. You must know, my heart weeps for you. He has caused enough grief already. Rumours reached me all the way in Ettenmoors that the people of Mirkwood are not happy with the new arrangements. Has my father truly lost his mind? And forcing you out of all the she-elves of Middle-earth to have a child for him!”

“He hasn't forced me anything,” the mother was quick to establish, “and having Airaoron, it is a beautiful feeling, just what I needed to feel more connectedness to the world.”

“Of course you would not regret having a son, but he hasn't done anything the way it's supposed to be. It is not fair on you, with him not being able to promise you to be your better half for eternity, no marriage, no status, no nothing. Not that he wanted to in the first place, I'm sure. You're just a tool to him, to attain this insane goal in ways nobody would ever approve of. How could you let this happen, why didn't you flee?”

“Legolas, it isn't quite like that,” Tauriel felt the need to deny even though what he was saying was something she had contemplated herself, trying to figure out if it was true though she did not want to believe it, “I could not expect anything, a lowly elf like myself, how could I?”

The elder prince jumped up, scoffing, “your little toe has more morality to offer than his whole persona! How dare he use you and discard you like this. Why weren't you given better quarters at least,” he looked around at the scarce furnishings. 

“I have been given better quarters,” the redhead frowned, not completely following his line of thought, “I was intending to stay in my captain's lodgings. I don't quite feel at home here so I didn't really think about setting the place up, but I'm sure as eggs I'm not going to stay with Thranduil.”

“No.” Legolas seemed to firmly agree with her on that. “It would be disrespecting you, brought to another level. But that is why I'm here, Tauriel, I will make things right. He should either see sense or let me handle things.”

“I'm not sure what you mean, how?” The elleth was becoming quite apprehensive, “the relationship between you two is shaky at best. I know he had relented on control over you and let you go because there was no other way, but what makes you think it would work the other way round? He had been quite firm on the matter of the Population Edict and relating dealings.”

“That very population is not happy, they are stirring. If he doesn't listen to me in his stubborness, he has to listen to them. It is like ordering half the people of Mirkwood to go through what you had to. We cannot wrong them too.”

“Well, my problem wasn't that. It was that he's still ill, often quite severely, which means that...”

“He isn't in his right mind,” Legolas interpreted it his own way, “that is possible while fading. I have consulted with a few healers on the topic after getting word from councillor Argalad. I have verified their claims and as much as it pains me, it is imaginable that we might have to be prepared to fight him on this. But first of all, your welfare. I understand that I wasn't your first choice, but I still love you. My father can have no say on who I choose, he has lost that right and I want you to know that I am ready to step up and offer what my father couldn't. My soul for eternity and for you to be treated as a queen, like the mother of the prince should've been.”

“Legolas..” With a few short sentences, the blond elf has turned her world upside down. It suddenly became very personal between them and she was too thunderstruck to refer back to the beginning of his speech and defend those of Thranduil's actions she did approve of. 

“You don't have to answer now. I shall go speak to my father. I need to see with my own eyes how much of Argalad's claims hold true, divert the king, anything. But I promise you, I will come back and take care of you and your son, in whatever way you need, no matter what the king wants,” he left a confused Tauriel behind. 

Startled by his brother's raised voice, Airaoron picked that moment to start crying, pulling her mind in yet another direction. She would have to speak to Legolas again, but it could be only after figuring out what exactly she was going to say in return to his offer.

Tbc


	25. Different Leagues

Chapter 25: Leagues 

Thranduil wasn't having a good day. Armed with the best books on holistic medicine and having sought the advice of healers in and beyond Mirkwood, he had sworn to himself that he would do everything in his power to fulfil Tauriel's expectations. After several sessions of mindfulness and taking advantage of healing potions, as well as a cleansing diet consisting mainly of lembas, miruvor and ent-draught, he had become quite optimistic about the prospect of being able to demonstrate to the mother of his child that he was hale and serious about staying in the realm, basing his assumption on ample testing of his health afterwards with the most potent of wines and the oldest and most disgusting cram there was to be found in the land. But after returning to his pre-battle of Dale routine and a couple of days of fight training, his cramps had returned with a vengeance the night before, leaving him depressed, mortified, in pain and dependent on his devoted servant Galion again for helping him out of bed and offering advice, which saw him spending the day resting after all and trying to devise a plan to get his situation finally turned over. So he was quite started when someone intruded into his bedroom, not to mention unannounced. 

“Father.” The entrant stated simply, giving him some due respect with a nod, but rather frosty and reserved otherwise. Not unusually given their history, but somewhat more prominently this time. 

The king was surprised enough into blinking uncertainly before he pulled himself up on the pillows into a sitting position and got himself together. “Legolas! I have not been expecting you, but I am glad you decided to come. We have much to discuss.”

“Understatement of the century.”

Thranduil nodded solemnly, understanding that his son was not exactly happy. Jealousy was a reaction he had anticipated and he had to admit that there was some cause for it and therefore he was ready with his approach, which would be keeping to his moral obligation to his people. “I had told you I had a plan for the survival of our species,” he said with the firmness of someone not wanting to be questioned. 

“And you never told me what it was, I assume with good cause. You never told me of course because it involved defiling my best friend, the elleth I loved!”

“Legolas.” The word sounded as if his father took pity on him, “you know well enough that your love was not reciprocated.”

“That is beside the point. Strange it may seem to you ada, you had no right to claim her body, using her to further some insane idea!”

“Careful Legolas. You are speaking to your King.” Thranduil was annoyed, more with himself than anything else for not being able to pull off his best commandeering voice. Those stomach cramps were quite distracting, even now. “I have grown fond of her,” he admitted, changing tack.

“You are clearly ill, father,” it was Legolas' turn to take pity on him. “You have your people worried, and that worries me.”

“My people have not seen me unwell since the mass funeral. In fact quite the opposite. They have seen me holding tribunals, gatherings, a feast with the occasion of Airaoron's birth, a celebratory march, as well as on patrols and the training grounds. I am told the common elf has no reason to suspect that my collapsing at the ceremony over a year ago was nothing but a temporary affliction due to grief and the adversity of the battle.”

“And yet, they do, Sire,” the younger elf countered. 

“Do you know something I don't, ion-nin,” Thranduil was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt based on his promise to himself to be less standoffish with his son, given that he was sure it was partly their relationship that had driven Legolas off in the first place. 

“Shall I describe it to you? Well, I have heard many discuss your Edict throughout the lands. Some say you have gone mad.”

“They won't disobey me,” the king dismissed, “they wouldn't dare,” he straightened to his rigid, upright pose, chin held high even in bed. 

Legolas shook his head, “father, you are asking your people to go against the very nature of the Eldar.”

“I thought you of all will understand. You have always stood by Tauriel's outlandishness after all.”

“I am standing by her,” Legolas assured. It was the closest he had ever come to physically attacking his father, anger boiling at the casual mention of her name. “I have asked her to honour me with a noble and dignifying union between the two of us.”

“You can't do that,” Thranduil gave him the stare. It was almost like a growl.

There were times when Legolas would've trembled like a leaf under those cold orbs. But not when Tauriel's fate was at stake. “Yes, I can. She had abandoned you, hasn't she. The Council approves by plan. The factions supporting them also agree that there might have to be desperate measures taken to protect the elven life style experience as it is,” he said defiantly, making sure it was hitting him where it hurt most. “To assure them of a future they would opt for, I have accepted possible resulting responsibilities, shall it come to that. You are fading. There's no reason why I couldn't take over in your lifetime to make matters easier for everyone.”

Thranduil however did not bat an eyelid at the open threat to his throne. The boy was hotheaded youth, just like his favourite redhead. It was clear the real threat came from those who put those ideas in his head, most likely certain members of the council. He made a mental note to deal with those, but now he had more important things to consider. “Elven life you say. In that case, let us invoke an ancient custom used when there are two elves competing for the attentions of an elleth. Settle the right to ask her amongst ourselves first, and then she can decide if she would want that hand.”

“I will not duel with you! You are ill, apart from anything else.”

“You either duel with me ion nin, settling the matter easily in private, or you bring in the council, and a potentially lot more grievous public ignominy,” he threatened, never really imagining he had lost too much support with the council. 

An elf wouldn't willingly physically harm another, but that didn't mean it could not get ugly. If Thranduil was to abdicate, Legolas wanted it to be smooth and behind the scenes and therefore there wasn't much choice at the moment but give him what he wanted. “Fine. I will wait till you're able to fight.”

Thranduil gave him a taunting smile, “in the morn, at dawn before anyone thinks of using the training halls. It will be a swordfight. Inform and bring one elf only, my assistant will be Galion. Now go.”

tbc


	26. The Engagement

Chapter 26: Engagement

Legolas surveyed the arsenal of swords available for use in the training halls. However skilled and lethal he was in fighting, he was more of an archer and in terms of blades preferred daggers or knifes. The only swords he could claim as his own possessions were the very ones that were gifted to him by Thranduil with the occasion of various celebrations and achievements. His father clearly would have preferred if he took after him in fighting style as archery wasn't exactly elvenking custom. Withal, Legolas didn't deem it fit if he fought with a weapon given to him by his adversary and so he decided he would use one of the generic, scarcely embellished, yet fully functional ones the training grounds offered. He picked twin blades, some of the longest ones available and closest to Thranduil's own and attached them into his belt without trying them out much, a lot less keen now on a combat with his father than he had been when he had accepted the challenge. No matter that elven duels were for showing strength only, not to harm each other, he looked hesitant, glancing at the exit on instinct.

“Are you having second thoughts?” Argalad guessed right. It was him who the prince had brought along, not wanting to involve any additional souls not already aware of all the predicaments. 

“You have suggested yourself, the king isn't in his right mind. What's more, he isn't well physically either. I know he proposed the duel, but I'm not sure how fair it would be. There won't be any winners in this fight.”

“His Majesty is an excellent swordsman. I don't doubt he will be an exemplary adversary despite circumstances.”

“How fair is it on his mental state though.”

“My Lord Legolas, we need to appreciate the grand opportunity fate had thrown our way, by the king's own doing. The Council had discussed various options on trying to figure out how to get His Highness to reconsider his Edict, perhaps give him the chance to depart to Valinor like he had wanted, get him to agree to an abdication in your favour or perhaps a temporary handover of power till he is better. We have not expected him to challenge you to combat. All you have to do is win the fight, and he will be proven lacking the necessary strength to lead. He is after all overtly pretending to be well. It's not as if you would have to harm him physically, spill any blood. Overpower him, that's all.”

“I know all that. It just feels wrong,” Legolas shook his head, “ominous.”

“The King commanded you to fight him, my Prince,” the councillor reminded, “we will have to see where that road leads us.”

“That is correct,” the chillingly cold and collected voice of Thranduil joined theirs. The king threw his cloak at Galion behind him, making sure it will not hinder him during the engagement. He would not wait on any further dustup, but simply attacked his son, not leaving him any choice but to utilize the borrowed swords and block his advance. 

“Adar...” Legolas gave conversation one more chance, but his attempt was met with the same fate as before. His swords pushed against his father's and Legolas forced himself out the corner he was wedged into. Responding to a ferocious blow with a similar one, the younger elf understood that Thranduil was angry with him, and perhaps with good cause. A prince didn't question his king like that. But the fierce and savage blows lit up his own anger. All the disappointment of his childhood, looking for fatherly love, and some sort of a closer relationship afterwards went into his parry. His eyes glinted with concentration, body focussed on the next blow and the next. 

Needless to say, they were pretty much equally matched in strength and litheness, jumping and rolling out the way of anticipated strikes, or getting themselves in an advantage situation for an onslaught. They both knew how the other would react and when, and so it was feared that the fight could go on for a while unless someone made a mistake. Argalad sighed and sat down on a bench at the back, while Galion remained close by, opting to have to leap out the way of the combatants at the last moment, rather than retreat and not be at the ready if his master needed him. Because it was him who knew with utter certainty how unwell Thranduil truly was. It was him who had to attempt a soothing massage in Tauriel absence, him who had to rummage through the drawers and feed his king every remedial substance they deemed safe to utilise for the occasion. 

The first sign that Thranduil was in trouble was his avoidance. He would deflect and forestall an onslaught by stepping to the side, rather than engage, especially if it was force that was needed for the counter. Galion felt the need to step even closer, be certain it weren't his eyes that were playing tricks on him when he saw the king's weapons shake in his hands. Thranduil's breathing was not normal, nor the pained expression on his face, or the prevalent use of one hand, while the other stayed close to his body, protecting his abdomen against the strain of sudden movements. The servant considered having to stop the fight somehow, but he didn't know how. 

The heir to the throne felt his opponent tiring. It had started to take Thranduil longer to push him away, and he was occupied more with defending himself than attacking his son. It would have been foolish to underappreciate the opposition however, so the prince did not let up, using every opening to thrust forward towards partially exposed areas Thranduil carelessly left undefended. It had become quite boring, the routine, finding an area like that, and taking advantage just to be denied score at the last moment. Not having a doubt in his mind that Thranduil will block the next blow as well and perhaps use it to knock the younger elf further away so he could get out from next to the wall, Legolas went for Thranduil's exposed side and yelped loudly in panic when he realised it was a hit, a crimson line staining the royal clothes immediately. 

“Stop!! Stop right now!” Galion pushed between them, notwithstanding he didn't need to as far as Legolas was concerned. The prince backpedalled, in shock. He certainly did not mean to injure his father!

“Get out the way, Galion, we're not finished,” Thranduil growled, holding his swords in a fighting stance as if nothing would have happened. 

“I will go call for a healer,” Argalad offered way too obediently, much in contrast to how he'd been acting recently. As far as he was concerned, the power struggle had a clear winner already and sooner or later, Thranduil will have to admit to his weaknesses.

“Go!” The crown prince gave his blessing to the action, then dropped his swords haphazardly onto the floor and went round the servant still standing between the royals to bow in shame, “adar, you look terrible. I am so sorry. Let us help you, that wound needs stitched at least,” he winced in full awareness of the injury's length and depth, having experienced the motion of creating it. 

The interruption had a negative effect on Thranduil. It wasn't the wound per se, more like the way he'd been feeling over the last day. The momentary pause in the action stole his strength and distracted him from his fury. There was no need for heightened concentration, nor an adrenalin rush and his awareness was flooded with the cramping of his belly. Head swimming, he stumbled away from the other two, breathing heavily, more to avoid being sick on them than refuse their help or anything else. One hand holding onto the wall, he bent forward and threw up everything in his stomach with just a few bouts of the overwhelming squeezing that had taken hold of his midsection. He was only vaguely aware that his sick on the floor was mixed with drops of blood from his side and that he was supported and pulled away from his own mess and lowered into a more comfortable position by the gentle, but strong arms of his son. Darkness followed.

Tbc


	27. Representation

Chapter 27: Representation

“Where are the healers!” Legolas barked at the returning councillor impatiently.

“My apologies, my Lord, but it seems like every one of them has been called away tonight to different parts of the lands to be present at birthing. There are a lot of those these days.” Argalad took every chance to criticise that order of Thranduil's he majorly did not agree with. “However, I did find..”

“Me!” Tauriel pushed past him, carrying a small, wooden box under one arm. She surveyed the scene for a moment, then wasted no more time to slide down by her lover's side. “How deep is it?” She eyed the bloodied regal mantle Galion utilised to push against the wound. 

“I don't think it's too deep,” the servant did not take his eyes off his king, searching his face for any changes.

“The blade didn't reach far in,” Legolas was trying to convince himself foremost, “the mistake he made was elemental, I don't understand.”

Taurile shot him a dark glance, then prompted the manservant again for an answer with her intent gaze. “I didn't dare to look,” Galion admitted, “I thought it best just to staunch the bleeding instead.”

“Good call. Any blood gathering under him?” 

“No, I'm quite sure there isn't.”

“Alright, good, I do need to look at the damage. Legolas, come here and help turn Thranduil to his side. That in itself should slow the bleeding somewhat,” she rummaged in her box while Galion and the crown prince manoeuvred the king into the position she had referred to, then pushed a piece of white linen into Legolas' hand. “I will count to three, at which point Galion will take his hand away, I will lift Thranduil's tunic and you will immediately press the cloth to his abdomen close to the wound from this side and Galion will do the same at the other side. It should give me a good view without compromising compression too much. One two three,” she gave them no more time, intent on no ounce of delay in helping the king. However, she did close her eyes for a moment in relief momentarily. “Alright. Alright. No arteries damaged and no major organs either. He will be all right, he would have already been if not for other afflictions. Hold him as you are, but no call for being aggressive in approach,” he proceeded to pull out and rub a good amount of athelas into the wound. They had a good stock of it at the Halls, there was no need to be stingy with it. “Menno o nin na hon   
i eliad annen annin,   
hon leitho o naegra,” she called forth her healing powers, pressing atop of the wound herself now. “Galion, the dressing from my case. I want you two to lead the linen through under him and make it a bandage round the abdomen,” she continued with the healing chant while the ellyn worked, then looked back, “Argalad. I want you to wake Injros and Mudor..”

“Do we need to involve anyone else?” Legolas seemed ashamed, panicked and mortified.

“They have my trust,” Tauriel dismissed the suggestion, being perfectly clear with the particular deliberate tone and intonation she was using that it was him she could not. “Have them bring a stretcher,” she instructed the councillor as if it would have been her right to order anyone, including the high ranking government members around. 

“I am so sorry,” Legolas tried, “I didn't mean this to happen. What else could I have done if he challenged me? It wasn't my fault.”

“You could have refused,” the redhead pointed out. “You're just as stubborn as he is. Doing things out of anger, I've done them for sure, and I regret them.”

“It was not supposed to be like this, none of this,” the prince fought with himself, stricken.

“What was it supposed to be like then, Legolas! For Thranduil to admit that he belonged in that distance he had kept himself aloof and distanced over the last centuries? For you to swipe in and off my feet with your gallantry and trusted by all the land? No Legolas. You had to have this duel, shove it into your father's face and claim not just moral, but mental and physical superiority. Wasn't that the plan here?”

“It was Argalad's plan.”

“You went along with it just the thing, didn't you, not heeding that your opponent was indisposed.”

“I don't care about Argalad's plan or who sits on the throne. I did it for you. I had hoped you would at least see that.”

“Legolas.” Tauriel calmed enough in her compassion to consider his emotions. She had to be careful there. “I knew you harboured feelings for me, but I was not aware of their intensity. Your father had warned me a while ago not to taunt you with hope where there was none and I don't think it was because he didn't deem me worthy, he had disproved that profoundly recently. It was because he could see I did not reciprocate your feelings the same way. We were close friends, I loved spending time with you, but I could not fall in love with you, there was plenty of time before that if it was going to happen. I am sorry for my part, I didn't mean to fall for your father, but because I did, I cannot accept your proposal, not even for appearances' sakes.”

“You...love my father?..” Legolas came to the realisation with a furrowed brow.

“I do. With all my heart. Now let me take care of him,” she looked in the direction of the soldiers who had appeared at that moment with the stretcher, “I will send word of his condition to your quarters, soon, I promise.”

tbc


	28. State Protocol

Chapter 28: Change of State

Thranduil felt Tauriel's presence more than saw her. It was only a blink he endeavoured in her direction as a result, making certain that the mother of his baby was indeed sitting by the bed, nose deep in some herbalist book, looking inquisitive and fascinated more than anything else. It was a good look on her, but then again, which one wasn't. Thranduil even enjoyed the way her eyes would sparkle in defiance on many occasions, not that he was very keen on igniting them right now by making her aware he was conscious. He had to admit that if she honoured this occasion with another slap, he would have surely merited the treatment this time. Duelling Legolas had been rather foolish, even if he did not anticipate himself to become so feeble and useless, but then again it was Tauriel who his son threatened to take away from him. 

“I wish you left behind this habit of scaring me,” Tauriel said sadly, not lifting her gaze from the book, giving clear indication that she knew he could hear her. 

“I am sorry,” he got himself up on an elbow, disregarding the resulting smarting in his side. It was only the stitches pulling and he wanted closer to her, conveying sincerity. 

“So you should be,” the redhead pursed her lips in a peevish manner. 

“About scaring you only,” Thranduil manoeuvred himself into a sitting position now and swung his legs don't onto the floor. “Not getting injured. I have heard you. I have heard you then as well, tending to me. I am quite certain my mind was not playing tricks on me, I have heard you say you love me.”

Tauriel's breath caught in her throat and her eyes snapped up at him for the first time during the conversation. After some consideration, she finally settled on, “all the same, I don't think it should come as a surprise to you?”

“You have no idea how happy you've made me, meleth nin.”

“No, I don't,” Tauriel made a designedly confused face to make a point and set her book down for the confrontation, “shouldn't you be healing faster if you were? Not have vomited?”

“Tauriel.” Thranduil reached for her hand to set his atop and slid off the bed to kneel at her feet. “Le melin. Le uivelin. Laer lin matha faeren, orthach 'uren ir tirach enni. Estelio enni, estellion allen. Guren min gaim lin. Le melithon anuir.”

“How can you say that? Forget the possibility of fading, how can you promise me forever? Don't you have a wife waiting for you in Valinor?”

“There's a locution that says that 'if you love two people at the same time, choose the second. Because if you really loved the first one, you wouldn't have fallen for the second.'(*) And I love you. The thought of losing you drives me insane. And I thank Legolas, because I should have done this a long time ago. Please marry me Tauriel, allow me to care for you as my esteemed Queen in front of all the lands.”

“I...I...I'm not sure if that's wise?” Tauriel remained cautious, not daring to open her heart to the possibility, fearing uncertainty from several angles. “Some are already rather weary of us disregarding tradition.”

“I wouldn't be the first elf to do so. But I'm still leaving this part of the new unions optional for everyone else and at the discretion of couples as specified in the Edict.”

“What about Legolas?”

“What about Legolas. Have you changed your mind about him?”

Tauriel huffed, “certainly not after what he had done to you. What about your health?”

“Don't you believe in my love. Our love,” he rectified, psyched by the notion of being able to say so after her admission. 

Tauriel slid onto the floor herself, kneeling knee to knee, hips pressing against hips and grasped at the hands searching for hers. Her heart was beating rapidly all of a sudden in overwhelming hope. “I want to, so much,” keen, adoring, desperate eyes told him, “I want nothing more than it to be true. But how can I? I don't think much has changed.”

“It did! Ask Galion, any of my servants, I was well! I did not have one bout of sickness for weeks! I was preparing to tell you, but I must've overstrained myself after all. It doesn't mean I can't get well, I will, I promise, especially with your support. Will you help me, meleth e-guilen?”

That was another address that had Tauriel taken aback so much that a shiver went through her, opening up channels in her fea she did not know she was capable of. Nothing else mattered. It also convinced her. Thranduil wouldn't lie, not about something like that. She searched his face, putting her hands on his chest, letting them roam as if doing that could have had him signed over into her possession, and solved all his problems at the same time. “There must be some way to cure you, something we're missing, it has to be. If our love is a given, it should have healed you already,” she fussed, not able to give herself over to happiness over their reconciliation for worry over his well-being.

“I agree. Which is why I've written to Mithrandir for advice. The Wonderer might be a rather irritating and know-it-all individual, but my father trusted him and his knowledge cannot be disregarded. But until then, I have missed your belly rubs,” he looked into her eyes suggestively before planting a warm, tentative kiss on her lips. After all, “you haven't answered my question yet. Will you marry me?”

tbc

(*)Note: Quote by Johnny Depp.

Glossary:

I love you ~ Le melin  
I will always love you ~ Le uivelin  
I will love you forever ~ Le melithon anuir  
My heart is in your hands ~ Guren min gaim lín  
I believe/trust (in) you ~ Estelion allen  
Trust me ~ Estelio enni  
Your song touches my spirit/my heart ~ Laer lín matha faeren/'uren  
You lift up my heart when you look at me ~ Orthach 'uren ir tirach enni  
Love of my life ~ Meleth e-guilen


	29. Messegner

Chapter 29: Messenger

“I'm sorry to disturb you my Lord,” Legolas' primary personal servant at the Halls stepped into his rooms unsolicited. The prince had been holing up in his quarters for the last day, embarrassed about what he had done and conflicted about what Argalad still claimed was the case, that the king's new laws were not good for Mirkwood. “King Bard the Dragonslayer has just arrived in a rush. He's asking to see your father. We told him to wait, but he insists the matter is urgent.”

“Let him in so I can speak with him,” the prince said quickly. It was furthest from him to want to disturb Thranduil, let alone contribute to anyone finding out about the afflictions plaguing the king at the present time. 

“I appreciate you receiving me,” Bard burst in with the air' of a person in a hurry, brow covered in sweat and still breathing heavily from the ride. “I need you to listen to me.”

“Has something happened, King Bard?” Legolas indicated a chair by the table to sit on.

The bowman gave a small shake of the head to decline the invitation to sit down. “I hope not. Is Lord Thranduil unwell?”

“Why should you ask that question?” 

“He hasn't been well during his last visit to Dale, and to be honest, I hope I'm not too late with my warning. I've had the occasion to spend an evening in the company of some rather drunken dwarves who pride themselves to belong to King Dain's inner circles and well, if their bibulous words are anything to go by, I now know why the dwarfking did not put up more resistance to giving the Gems of Lasgalen back to Thranduil!”

Legolas had to stifle a frown. His mother's gems were back at the Halls and he didn't even know about it. “I had to come immediately, right after the conversation, middle of the night or no night, I owe His Lordship that much for not forgetting about us in our great need,” Bard continued without needing to be prompted, “I came to make sure Lord Thranduil isn't in peril. Or is he?”

“I'm not sure what you mean,” Legolas still wasn't giving the game away just yet.

“According to these dwarves, the Gems of Lasgalen are cursed! And the curse should activate as soon as they are back with their rightful owner, and as far as I know, that would be your father!”

“A curse you say. Did they tell you what this particular curse should do?”

“Not in so many words, but by what I've gathered, they were suggesting it would weaken the one possessed. A clever trick where it does not cause a strong and healthy individual immediate harm, thus making the spell untraceable, but as soon as an injury or malady would take hold, dark magic will keep the individual from getting better. And given that I know how unwell Thranduil had been to start with, you can see my concerns. We must act!”

“Oh Valar, that is why he's ill!” Legolas panted with the revelation and almost hugged the messenger, only his elvish pridefulness stopping him from doing so. 

“How ill?” Bard was weary to hear the answer. 

Legolas grabbed him by the arm, looking at him intently, “do you know how to get rid of the curse?”

“That I don't, but I thought it more important to come tell you about it, rather than hang about for some information that might never be given. It is very likely the dwarves I was talking to didn't know themselves.”

“Good man,” Legolas squeezed the arm he was holding, “thank you for you friendship and dedication, King Bard. Stay, I'm sure my father will want to thank you himself,” the Prince nodded before knocking the door out the way and bursting into a run towards Thranduil's rooms. Notwithstanding the curse must have been at work for a long long time, he did not want to waste any more. 

Galion jumped at his entry into the antechambers and opened his mouth to speak, aweary of the duellant's sudden appearance in his opponent's abode despite how subdued and worried Legolas had been after Thranduil's collapse, but the butler did not get a word in, nor did he have enough time to jump in the crown prince's way. “Where are the Gems of Lasgalen!” Legolas advanced on the bed, disregarding that he had just interrupted a kiss. At least they were dressed and decent, it shortly crossed his mind before explaining himself, “we need to get rid of them immediately, they are cursed!”

“They are cursed..” Tauriel repeated, everything starting to suddenly make sense. Thranduil pulled himself up to sit, searching his son's face. He did not want it to be true, he did not want to part from the memento, his stomach ached at just the thought of that.

“Where are they?” Tauriel joined the worried questioning.

“In a chest under the bed,” Thranduil relented, just because of who was asking. Tauriel gasped at the cursed object's proximity and knelt to retrieve the item at once while Legolas looked under at the other side.

Tbc


	30. Queen Consort

Chapter 30: Queen Consort

Thranduil approached the site with reverence, leading the way. Even though vines have overgrown the area and a dense canopy made visibility difficult, he knew exactly where he was heading. Utilizing his swords to clear a path, he made room for the rest of his small group. Legolas, Tauriel, Galion and Injros had nothing to do but follow. At last, he came to a halt, making Legolas nearly tumble into his father's back. The younger elf peered round from behind him, and yet he could only see but overgrown vegetation and ancient trees. Thranduil however jumped forward with the same abruptness as he has stopped earlier and started to pull vines away from a tall, wooden form. And as the features of the statue came into view, Legolas found himself face to face with the likeness of his mother for the first time in his life as every picture, portrait and locket depicting the once queen had been removed from the Halls with Thranduil wanting to avoid being reminded of her unnecessarily. 

“I will help,” Galion pushed forward, joining the king in his endeavour to rid the statue of leaves, moss and dirt. Not that there ever was any doubt, but once the debris were removed, it became clear how beautiful Queen Alhinath had been. Given the choice of wood, it would probably be fair to say that the elleth had also been blonde, with full lips and stately features, frozen in time with an expression of kindness. For several moments, they all simply stared, overtaken by different emotions, Thranduil with longing, Galion with reverence, Legolas with awe and the other two with cautious curiosity, not wanting to intrude. 

In another burst of energy, Thranduil cleared the whole sculpture, pulling away all the branches that covered the legs and cloak of his wife's likeness. His hands slowed as he finished and his hand moved up, to the cheek that he smoothed and caressed for one moment before turning to Legolas, “I loved your mother, perhaps too much for everyone's sakes. I want you to know that from this day forward, you can always ask about her and I shall answer to the best of my ability.”

Legolas nodded in acknowledgement. It would be a lie to say that things weren't still frosty between father and son, but there were issues to be sorted, “let's deal with the gems.”

Galion produced those at once from a box he had been carrying and handed them over to Thranduil who hesitatingly placed the jewels where they belonged, around Alhinath's neck. They glinted like starlight even under the dense canopy, proving they needed very little light for the full effect of them glittering. Thranduil pulled back, surveying his work, imagining how his queen would have looked with the necklace. 

“Is it working? Did the curse lift? Is transferring to the statue enough?” Galion voiced everyone's worries, rather nervous. 

“If Mithrandil says it will work, then it will work,” Thranduil summarised his feelings on the subject. 

“How do you feel ada?” Legolas wanted confirmation as well.

Thranduil sighed and moved further back away from the statue, turning his attention on himself for the first time since he'd spotted the figure. He put a hand on his stomach and probingly pushed here and there, brow furrowing in confusion. “I feel well. It was cramping with queasiness just minutes ago, but now I feel all right.” His heart was beating fast, but that would be the thrill of the realisation. Nothing could stop him and Tauriel being together now, their trust in each other should be absolute.

Tauriel moved to him, placing a hand on his belly as well. She had been staying in the background so far, she didn't even want to accompany the group as she considered it wasn't her business to meddle into matters to do with the late Queen, but curiosity and concern over Thranduil's well-being now took over and she did a mental medical assessment based on her sensing his energies, as well as a thorough palpation of the abdomen, or as close she could get to such a measure while having him standing up. “I think..I think Thranduil is well,” she hugged him as a result. 

“I..cannot go back,” Legolas let them know of his intentions and turned to get out the niche straight off. It wasn't really a surprise to anyone. If after the battle he had reasons to leave, they were manifold increased at this time and so he bolted. 

Thranduil pulled himself out of Tauriel's embrace, “ion-nin,” he called after Legolas.

“I know.” Legolas only half turned. Words weren't needed to establish that their fondness for each other remained unquestioned as it has always been despite all disagreements, the look said it well enough. “I will be here when you need me, my King,” he promised, “it's not all you, it's me. I need to find out how I want my life to turn out and I can't do that in Mirkwood.” There were too many conflicting emotions, too many to deal with.

The king nodded, acknowledging, “fare well, my son.” His voice was melancholic, with a tint of hope in the rekindling of a proper father/son relationship.

Tauriel squeezed his hand in encouragement, that she never let go during the conversation, claiming him subtly. She did not want to sadden Legolas any more than he already was though and thus she didn't kiss her elf, especially not with the statue of the past right behind them, but she did nestle into his chest and melted against him, providing much needed warmheartedness. “Don't we have a wedding to plan?” Galion urged them all to move and find their way back to the horses left by the roadside.

“Several in fact,” Injros chipped in, thinking of his own bride among the many who got engaged just recently, one by one and little by little pledging to fulfil the requirements of the Edict, and finding happiness along the way.

The (Fairytale) End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on Queen Alhinath. The word translates into Evangeline, which is why I chose it. As Tauriel was played by Evangeline Lilly, the choice feels a bit like not having made a queen replacement after all, the two equate at some level.   
> Thank you all for reading!


End file.
